


Hail Mary

by imstillprettyodd



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: All terrible features of the legion, Angst, Catholicism, Consensual Relationship, F/M, Latin, Latino Character, POV Female Character, Past Relationship(s), Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Romanticizing Stuff, Spanish, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:16:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 38
Words: 54,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8244098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imstillprettyodd/pseuds/imstillprettyodd
Summary: María has been a daughter, a farmer, a singer, and a courier, but now she is a subordinate of Caesar, and enthralled with the Leader of the Frumentarii.Religious themes/references.





	1. The Beginning

I'm dead. I have to be. It's dark and the last thing I remember was that reverberating bang, his face, his apology, Maria, and that spinning silver-colored chip glinting in that silver-colored light.

So how am I thinking all this? I've heard that after you die, your brain keeps bursting with little sparks of energy for a certain amount of time. Maybe it's your brain saying, "We can't stop here, we've got so much more left to experience." But it gives up after you don't respond and dies along with you.

But I think it's been more than the estimated amount of seconds. Maybe I'll just think forever, only my thoughts to keep me company in eternal darkness.

“Hey, hun, you awake?”

Is that God? Maybe I'm in heaven and haven't opened my eyes to see the lights yet. But I don't think I believe in God, so I'm probably in hell. I don't want to see what that looks like.

God asks me to open my eyes, he wants to make sure I'm alright. He comes in the form of an old man with a country accent. This heaven is a dusty old room and I'm lying on a bed. God sits beside me.

“I was hopin' you'd wake up soon. I was gettin' worried that maybe your coma would last for longer than I thought. First off, let's make sure you ain't got any memory loss, but you might have some and that's expected of getting shot in the head. You're real lucky to be alive, you know. So what's your name?”

My name? I know it. "María," I tell God. "So, I'm not dead?"

God tells me I'm truly alive and that his name is Doc Mitchell. He says he fixed me. I suppose on earth God goes by 'Doc Mitchell.'

He hands me a mirror, let's me look at my face. I feel as if I've been sleeping for years and my face almost comes as a shock. Everything's there, but there are new things too. Like the scar on my temple and the bruises and scratches on my face. It's been a while since I've seen myself so beat up.

“I'm sorry I had to shave some of your hair, but I had to get to the bullet," Doc Mitchell apologizes.

I explain that it's of no importance and in fact if he wouldn't mind bringing me the shears. It does look odd to see the hair on the side of my head in prickles.

I cut off the rest when he gets back with the scissors. Now it juts out at uneven angles and curls under my ears. I look new, but not fresh. I look like dirt and unwashed things. All the tans and browns of my skin, my underclothes, my eyes, my brows, my hair, they mix together like some disgusting mud pie. Like the Mojave, Mamá would've said.

I touch my face as I sit on the edge of the bed. I'm alive. I'm alive and I've got to start all over again. I've got to get out of here. I stand up, but the doctor puts his hand on my arm.

“Hey, hey take it easy there, hun.”

“I've got to get to New Vegas,” I breathe out shakily, gripping the bed frame to keep my balance.

“New Vegas? Now that's a long way away. Why would you ever wanna go there?”

“There's someone there I need to talk to.” I let go of the bed frame and stumble to the next wall. “How long have I been out?” I ask the plaster.

* * *

 

The sun feels as if it's burning my skin as I step out of my doctor's home, vault jumpsuit sleeves tied around my waist, machete strapped to my hip. Everything is new, except for the delivery slip in my pocket and the bottle caps. Even the duster in my bag is pre-owned.

When my boots reach the dirt, it's like I'm back where I belong. Some would say that would be New Vegas, but I disagree. I was born from the desert. Benny had a hard time realizing that. Maybe he had forgotten what it was like to have dirt under your chipped fingernails and dust in your hair, but I haven't.

I start walking toward the road. I don't know where I'm going, but I know I'm going somewhere.


	2. The Chip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that whoever is reading this is enjoying it. I honestly forgot this existed. But here you go: second chapter, bam!

 

‘Why are crying, _m'ija_?’

‘Because I'm dead, Mamá.’

 

* * *

 

The sun is the first light I see after waking up and I squint against it, thinking that maybe I'm being born again.

"You okay?" Someone asks. I tilt my head up to look at the speaker and I'm surprised to see a robot just like the ones back in New Vegas staring down at me. Except his face isn't the one of the angry officers, but of a happy cowboy. He reaches out a metal arm.

"Come on little lady, I'll help you up."

I reach my hands up and grasp his arm, fingers trying to cling to the metal. He pulls, but I'm dead weight and fall back to the ground, hands barely hanging on. "Hey now," he says, "You're alive, this time you gotta help me out." I don't know what he means by that as my boots fight to get me solid on the sandy dirt. He pulls up again and this time I'm straight on my feet. I stumble and he reaches out to catch me, but I assure him I'm fine. 

"No, I'm fine. I don't need your help."

"Well, I'm sorry. I thought maybe, you know, I could save your life for the second time this week."

"What do you mean?" I ask as I adjust the weapon on my hip and brush a hand through my short hair. I had almost forgotten that I cut it. I look around me and all the Goodsprings citizens are watching with wary eyes. _She's probably some supernatural being_ , I bet they're saying. _No one can survive a shot to the head._

"I mean I helped you out of that little hole you got yourself stuck in. I reckoned you were still breathing. Sure enough you were. It's not everyday a Securitron like me saves someone," and I feel if he had an actual face, he'd be beaming. 

He goes on, "And here, well you must of just collapsed right here in when you came out of Doc's. The sun must've been a real shock to ya." 

I nod, but in reality, I don't care. I just need to get to New Vegas. I need to get to Benny. 

"What's the best way out of here?" I ask the robot.

* * *

 

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" A man in tan asks me as I come into Primm. NCR, soldier boys. People to avoid, because the one's with sticks up their asses will ruin your fun times. At least that's what the Chairmen told me. Those men, the ones with the fancy suits and slicked back hair, we're my family for a while. The only one I had after I up and left my real one to go sing at The Tops because the guy in the eye-patch was just too much of a smooth talker to say _no_  to. Of course that was before I met Benny. 

The soldier boy asks his questions again with an added, "Did you hear me? Are you even listening?"

I want to answer his first two with a _My name's María and I'm trying to find my ex-boyfriend because he shot me in the head for some poker chip and I'm following this path on my map because I've never been here before. Who are you and what are you_   _doing here?_ But I feel as if he wouldn't understand my grief.

"I'm looking for someone," I tell him.

"Mmph. Well just so you know, this town has been overrun by escaped convicts, so if you value your life more than finding this person, I'd turn around."

I tell him thank you and walk past him into Primm, taking my machete from my hip. I learned to fight on my family's ranch down south. The occasional raider or animal would come our way and I was the young one, I had to protect my Mamá and Papá, and of course, our crops. 

I blow out a breath of contained air. Maybe here I can find out why someone would kill their lover for a poker chip. I mean of course I can. It's  a lie that I've never been here before. I had taken the courier job in Primm to see the world, as I had told Benny. He wouldn't kill me because I left him, would he? It was only just supposed to be for a few days. I'd travel back to New Vegas from Primm with the package and deliver it and then we would meet again. I just need to find my employer and he can tell me the information I need.

I kill the two convicts standing outside on of the casinos easily, turning my machete, following their movements with my eyes and blade. 

Mamá never liked blood, said that something that came from the body was alright, but something that came from the body and something that you could see your reflection in, now that was scary. Blood's something natural--it reminds me that people are just people, nothing more. 

I step over the bodies and into the casino, welcomed by a shotgun pointing at my chest and an old man. 

"You one of them Powder Gangsters?" He asks. 

"No sir, I'm a courier," I respond. What the hell is a Powder Gangster? 

"Wait, you're courier six, ain't ya?" The old man lowers his shotgun. 

I nod. I don't have time for this, I just need facts. I don't have time to answer dumb questions.

"Can you tell me anything about the package I was carrying?"

He laughs, "Some kind of platinum chip. It can't just be that, though. It's probably something more."

"Probably," I roll my eyes. 

"You know, I bet Deputy Beagle has more info that you might need. But he's locked in that hotel across the street." The old man juts his thumb at the door. 

I can see myself pulling my machete from my hip and threatening the man with it, shouting, "I'm dead and I want to know why!" 

But instead I mutter, "I'll look somewhere else," and I scream as I smash my machete into one of the dead convicts' skulls once I'm outside. 

 


	3. The Angel

Out of all the stories Mamá told me from the Bible, the one about the archangel Michael and his army of beautiful angels pushing Lucifer out of Heaven enters my mind as I arrive in a town called Nipton. Something about that, good overpowering evil, stuck. I imagined Michael as a handsome man with wings like the ones of doves, coming down to Earth to save me from the evils of the wastes. 

But no, instead I find him in the town wearing the head of a coyote and smelling of blood and smoke. 

I fall to my knees when Michael walks out from the town hall. I didn't mean to, but the simple sight of him made my legs fail me. I have never been one to follow religion, but this man, this being, perhaps he controls me with the movements of his head. 

"Get up off your knees, woman, even if it's where you belong." I hear him mutter. 

I rise and stare at him. "I..."

"Are you not afraid that I will have you put on a cross like those degenerates lined up there?" He motions to the crucifixes along the road. "No, do not answer. I ask a simple task of you. You must spread the word of the Legion, Caesar's Legion, and what we have done here."

"What have you done here?" I ask him, beg him for the answer. 

He laughs, but without emotion, " I cleansed this town. I enacted a lottery, as the profligates love to gamble. I taught them that they are weak and we are strong, that they are whores and we are pure. I burned their leader on a bed of fire and nailed them to crosses, hoping to nail the way of the Legion into them before they breathed their last." Michael moves his hands, as if none of the details matter. 

"Is that all you want, for me to tell what happened here?" 

"Yes, that is all. Now I bid you _vale_ , even if our meeting was short, I must leave. Until we meet again." He turns and begins to walk, but I reach out to stop him. 

"Who are you?" I expect him to say that he is Michael and to take my hands in his and to kiss the palms of them, to mark my forehead with a cross. To let me drink the wine, the blood, of Christ. 

He stops and moves his head ever so slightly. "Me? I am Vulpes Inculta, Master Frumentarius of Caesar's Legion. Perhaps our paths will cross again." He continues walking. 

I want to follow him. I almost do until I realize that New Vegas is close, that Benny is close. He is my main priority at the moment, not the archangel Vulpes Inculta. 

* * *

I think I took a wrong turn and I check my map. I have no idea where I'm going. South? East? Definitely not north. I sigh, I've had enough for tonight. I make camp in an abandoned trailer and try to sleep on the hard metal, but all I can do is fiddle with the Pip-Boy on my arm. 

My eyelids droop and the green words all blur in to each other. I have my machete beside me, I think as I make the decision to go to sleep. 

I dream of men in checkered suits with cigarettes. And bullets and death and blood. I do not dream of angels, because they do not exist. 


	4. The Detour

I wake in a start, my hands reaching for the weapon at my side. I pull it close against my chest and crouch down, listening for the sound of footsteps or voices. And there they are.

"You said you saw someone in there?"

"Yeah."

"Well, why the hell didn't you kill 'em, you dumbass?"

"I swear she looked like she was going to wake up."

"Shut up, this ain't gonna work if you keep blabbering on."

I reach the edge of the opening to the trailer and peek around. Two Fiends, their dirty hands gripping a golf club and a pool cue, are wandering in the dirt, eyes searching wildly. 

"Hey!" I shout. Their hungry eyes turn towards me and I leap from the trailer, twirling my machete around so that the blade faces them.

The first one dies easily, a stab in the chest as I clutch his shoulder like a friend. The other fights back. He hits me in the side with the hard metal of the golf club and goes for my head as I stumble, but he misses by an inch. I raise my weapon and by the time I regain my balance, his severed head is lying on the ground. Some would be astonished by my actions, but it's their lives or mine and it doesn't look like I enjoy being dead. I don't kill righteously like Vulpes Inculta, I kill in self-defense.

Leaning down, I search through the dead men's pockets, pulling out eight bottle caps and dirty water. No medicine for my aching side, of course not.

I down the water, slip my duster on my shoulders, and set my gaze on the hills. All I can do is follow the road now.

* * *

 

The sky ahead of me is green. I see a town with buildings, a church and a group of NCR soldiers miling about on the side of the road.

"Miss," one of them says when I approach. "Excuse me miss." Always like those New California Republic assholes to keep people on a short leash. It seems like wherever I go, they're there to stop me. 

"This town up ahead is irritated. Unless you've got a sack full of Rad-X and RadAway, you're not going to come out of there."

I have a bottle of Rad-X in the pocket of my duster, so I think I'm okay. 

"Thank you for the warning," I tell the man as I weave through the group of soldiers. He looks like he's going to say something as I pass, but he keeps his mouth shut. 

As soon as I pass the welcome sign of the town, the needle on the radiation counter of my Pip-Boy starts dancing. I pop a pill of Rad-X. I look around me and I don't expect it when I hear the familiar growling of a feral ghoul. It seems as if every part of the Mojave is a battlefield. More ferals start to flood from between the boarded-up houses and I sprint for the watchtower up ahead. I gasp as I feel the sharp scrape of a claw against my back while I begin to climb the ladder to the top of the watchtower. 

When I reach the top, I'm breathless, trying to drown out the growl of the ghouls with my own heavy breathing. I lean again the wall of the hut and bury head in my hands. 

"I suspected we would find me again soon."

I raise my head at the sound of that voice and meet the narrow eyes of Vulpes Inculta. He does not wear the coyote head or the dark goggles, but instead sharp angles and a frown. I cannot say anything but that he mesmerizes me. I notice the scratches on his face and I can't help but let out a breath. 

"What are you doing up here?" I ask, voice small. 

"Surveying my work. Isn't it beautiful?" He stands by the window of the watchtower and looks out at the town briefly.

"No, it...it looks like vomit." 

He grunts, "Perhaps you do not understand. The profligates that resided here, they deserved what they received. Two recruits under my command sacrificed themselves in Caesar's name, turning over barrels of radioactive waste. That is why you are being chased by those abominations." He passes over to me. "Since this is my second time meeting you, I feel as if you should tell me your name."

"María," I say as I stare up at him.

The corners of his mouth tilt up a bit. "You are the courier who was almost killed."

"How do you know?"

"The scar on your forehead. Not to mention, you have the haircut of a slave, María." He waves his hand in my general direction, but all I can focus on is the way he says my name. It seems as if it was made for his tongue, and perhaps it was. The Legion speaks Latin, I know that from Benny: _Yeah, you gotta watch out for those Legion creeps. They dress like Romans and speak an ancient language and keep slaves. They kill for sport, María._  

Half of me wishes to ask Vulpes to say my name again, so that I can imagine his tongue in his mouth moving carefully as it forms the sounds in an embrace with his voice. 

"Are you after the man that shot you?" My eyes move back to him, to stare at his beautiful, hard face. 

"Yes." It's almost hard to speak now. 

"Then you are going the wrong way. He is in New Vegas. You need to go North. You are heading toward Legion territory." 


	5. The No Vacancy Sign

"I'm going the wrong way?" I ask Vulpes, using my hands to support myself up.

"Yes, didn't your...device there tell you that?" He points at my Pip-Boy, frowning. Then he straightens, "It is my time to return to the Fort. I'm sure you will be fine on your journey." He walks to the edge of the watchtower and looks over the side. Then he looks back at me and sticks out his hand. "You wouldn't happen to have an explosive on you, would you?"

I dig through my bag at his command and pull out a grenade I must have picked up from one of the convicts in Primm. I place it in his hand, fingers brushing against the sweaty fabric of his gloves. He smirks at me and slowly pulls the pin with his index finger, dropping the grenade over the edge. I clutch the wood of the watchtower and wait for the familiar bang. It comes later than expected and I watch as Vulpes disappears, leaving me alone in the hut.

I wait until I think he's left Searchlight. Then I crawl down the ladder and my boots crunch the remains of the feral ghouls. I kick at the bone-thin limbs, feeling disgusted. 

My Geiger Counter starts up again, clicking and I run out toward the road, heading North as Vulpes told me to. I'd bleed myself to death if he asked me, nail my own hands to a cross and kick a bucket under my feet to collect the blood. I'd watch as he'd dip a finger in the bucket, drips falling, and I'd watch as he put the finger on his tongue, eyes trained on me. Looking at me, consuming me whole. 

I cut my knee as I trip over a rock, breathing out through my mouth, tasting sand. _You've done this to yourself, María,_ I think. I lie there for a minute until something catches my eye.

There's a giant lizard in the distance and the lights of New Vegas behind it, glowing in the dark of the night and in the dark of my mind.  


* * *

 

"Well howdy now, I didn't expect to be finding you here," the twangy voice of a cowboy says from behind me. I turn and find the robot from Goodsprings who apparently saved my life. His eternal grin earns a frown from me.

"Have you been following me?" I ask.

He chuckles, "I'd like to think I'm looking out for you, is all. Besides, I just got the feeling that maybe I should head here, didn't know why, though." 

I grunt, making a sound that I don't even understand. "Is this how I get to New Vegas? Did you see Benny come this way?" 

"Nah, I ain't seen that paisley-suited fella anywhere. I..." the robot turns so that he's looking down the road, "this seems to be the way to New Vegas. I reckon you better follow the asphalt. Them lights should be mighty close by the time the road diverges. Now, good luck, little lady, seems like you know what you're doing."

I mutter a small _thanks_ and turn to leave, but decide against it, heading for the little room beside the motel instead. 

An old woman greets me, tells me that to rent a room is a hundred caps. I explain that I don't have the money, so she smiles and says I should head up in the dinosaur, meet with the owner of the gift-shop, maybe he'll buy my things.

I have nothing worth selling, but I climb the stairs anyways, hand hesitating on the doorknob as I hear a call, "Who are you?"

I follow the noise to the barrel of a sniper rifle pointing at me from the bottom of the steps. 

My hands rise beside my head and I hold them there. "I'm a cou--" I begin, but I'm stopped by a growl. 

"Shut it. I know you're Legion scum. Sure you're a woman, but they've probably recruited them to do their dirty work. Now tell me who bought my wife or I'll give the dino a new coat of red paint." 

Shit. My hands shake as I raise them higher, as if another, holier pair will grab mine and save me. 

"I'm sorry," I mumble, "I don't know where your wife is. I'm so sorry." I don't care about his wife. I just care about living. 

He lowers the weapon slowly. "Who are you, then?"

"I'm a courier, a mailman. I don't mean any harm. I just need money for a room. I'm not Legion, just a traveler." 

"Boone," he grumbles and returns his weapon  to his back. "I have something you can do for me. I'll give you money."

"What is it?" My hands are back at my sides now and I'm intrigued. 

"My wife. She was sold to the Legion as a slave. I need to find out who sold her to them." Boone's tone is sharp. "Here," he walks up the stairs toward me and hands me his beret. "Go out in front of the dinosaur when you find them and put this on. I'll do the rest." 

"Sure," I tell him and almost fall off the stairs as he makes his way around me to enter the door of the dinosaur. 

I sigh. Getting to Benny is taking me longer than I thought it would. Luxury comes at a price, though, and tonight I feel like I'm willing to pay it. 

I head into the little office and ask the old woman about Boone's wife. 

The old woman looks tired as she lets out, "Well, Carla was nice and all, pretty too, but she acted as if she was better than everyone here. Now, if you don't mind, I've got to get to sleep." She shuffles off out of the office and I'm left there all alone. I search through her things until my hands push away several papers covering a small, black square. A safe. 

I learned to pick locks back on the farm from the neighbor boys with their dark, searching eyes and reaching fingers. They could steal anything: food, money, my panties, and I imagine I'm them as I twist the bobby pin and my newly-found screwdriver. I hear a click and pull my tools away, feeling a smile cross my face. 

There's papers, a book, and a bag of caps. I pocket the caps--I've earned it--and stash the book. The papers seem of less importance until the name "Boone" makes me read from beginning to end. 

Selling a mother and her child for fast cash? That's something you see happen at Gomorrah, not in some small town with old people and snipers attacking from the mouths of fake dinosaurs. I pocket the papers to show to Boone later. 

I slam the safe door close and rush out the door, catching up with the old woman as she heads to a group of small, trailer-like houses. 

"Hey, there's something I want to show you out in front of the dinosaur, it's really important," I tell her. 

She looks at me from behind her glasses. "If you say so. I always feel so small out in front of it, though." She follows me slowly, trudging along and I'm bouncing with anticipation, already fishing the beret from my bag and putting it on my head. 

She's still walking toward the middle of the dinosaur when her head explodes and I jump out of the way, avoiding the flying blood, brain, and bone. Her headless body lies in front of me and I don't resist the urge to scavenge through her pockets. I pull out more caps and the key to her safe. I take all and hurry back to the dinosaur, past the empty gift shop and to the door leading to the mouth. 

Boone turns when he hears the door open. "Thank you," he tells me and I hand him back his beret, which he immediately slips on his head. I also give him the documents and he looks over them. He folds the pages. "Thank you," he says again and deposits a bag of caps into my hands. "You don't even need to pay for a room now, you know." 

"Yeah," I say. I walk back to the rooms and pick the one with the number I like the most. It's a nice enough room and allows me to make plans in my head for tomorrow without distracting me. I'll wake, I'll eat...I'll enter the Tops.

It's not until I pull the sheets around me that I wonder if Boone knew he had a child.


	6. The Memories

_He wipes the makeup off my face with a washcloth and smiles, "Well look at that, you're just as pretty as you are with it."_

_He sets the stained washcloth on my dresser and turns back to look at me. "What's your name, baby doll?" He asks._

_"María," I murmur. This man, Benny, he said his name was, makes me blush hard and my eyes flash like camera bulbs._

_"And tell me, María, how old are you?" He's leaning over me to undo the clasp of my necklace. His fingertips brush against my skin. I can smell his cologne, his cigarette smoke, and his pomade._

_"Nineteen."_

_"You're just a baby. I could tell--you had that look about you, like you're just experiencing everything for the first time." He pulls the necklace from around my neck and sets it on the counter also._

_"I should think so. I've never been here before." I stare at my fumbling hands._

_He grins, showing perfect, white teeth, "The lights got you in a trace, huh?"_

_I nod, smiling a little bit too and lower my head. I feel a jolt in my chest as he takes my hands. He's cradling them in his._

_"You sing beautifully," he tells me and I thank him. "Whose song were you singing there?"_

_"Billie Holiday's. 'Crazy He Calls Me' is what it's called."_

_Then he lets go of me and leans back in his seat, "Sing it for me, baby doll."_

_My throat constricts the same way it did when I was standing up there for the first time, clutching the microphone. But now there's no microphone to clutch and I rise unsteadily on my feet. My voice comes out in a waver, "'I say I'll move the mountains...'"_

* * *

 

I clutch the sheet in my grasp as I wake to a motel room. Now that I'm close, thoughts of Benny are coming back like bad news. Bad news that shouts, 'Just imagine, you'll have to see him again, the man you loved for three years, the man who made you stay awake at night because you were thinking about when he was going to come up the stairs, the man who made you a woman because you begged him to do so.'

But now the anger replaces that idiotic nostalgia and I reload the pistol that lies under my pillow. I'll kill him, aim for his head like he did for me. And I'll take the stupid chip because he took it from me. 

I leave the room and step out onto the balcony of the motel. The morning air smells of gunpowder and I look north. The silhouette of New Vegas is still there, maybe it will always be there, until the end of all time. 

I hurry down the stairs and head for a tent past the gates of Novac. I'll leave without saying goodbye to Boone, but I won't leave until I've eaten. 

I snatch fresh potatoes and apples from the counter in the tent and then go on my way, only starting to eat the apple when I've passed the dinosaur. 

There's a long road ahead. Hours of walking, only made exciting by the occasional radscorpion attack, but the bullets in my gun and the sharp edge of my machete have Benny's name on them so I keep walking. 

* * *

 I reach a town made of rubble and I pause briefly to look at it and the lone NCR soldier standing near a door leading (presumably) into the rubble. After I've had my look, I decide to follow the train tracks. It there I hear the optimistic voice of the robot who just won't leave me alone. 

"Seems like it was just yesterday I saw you," Victor chirps. 

"It _was_ yesterday." I reply sharply, debating whether or not to look around in the tiny train station. 

"Aren't you just chugging along?"

"Sure. Now if that's it, I really have to get to New Vegas." 

"Of course! Well it was good seeing ya, but I should probably mosey on down the road." 

"Yeah, you should do that," I say as he turns and wheels away, leaving a trail of flying dirt.

I say no to the train station and instead find comfort in the smack of my boots on the wood is the tracks, giving me a rhythm to follow. 

* * *

  _I dance for him, because he asked me to. I don't have any music to follow, but I dance anyway. He seems to be enjoying, casually sprawled in his seat, drinking a martini and watching the way in which my body twists and turns, the way my hands try to catch the air above my head._

_I wonder what he's thinking. If he's thinking about making me a new dancing act. If he'll put me in a flapper outfit and wind me up like a music box ballerina. If he's thinking  about how great his girl dances--because that's what I am, his girl, Benny's girl. Only took me a week to claim that title and now all the Chairman know it. If they look my way with half-lidded eyes and a small smile, they're going to have problems with Benny._

_My feet trip over each other all of a sudden and I fall onto the carpet. I hear Benny rushing towards me and feel his warm hands on my arms as he touches me and asks if I'm alright._

_"I'm alright," I tell him, but in reality, this new life is too much for me. It will take some time for me to get used to it, but I think the heavy smell of perfume and tobacco smoke makes me nauseous._

_He pulls me up. "It's been a long day. Why don't we put you in bed?"_

_I nod and lean against him. He holds me by the arms as my limp feet drag along the carpet. And then he lays me on the bed, smiles sadly and says he'll be in bed by the time I wake up. I fall asleep feeling as if the soft bed is caving in and I'm dropping through layers of mattress and sheet and floor._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are okay with the way I wrote Benny. I like him this way, he's more human--something I think we miss in the game. He's actually really ooc and now I kind of feel bad.


	7. The Return

The stench of garbage makes my eyes water. How do all the people of Freeside walk around smelling the bile and are comfortable avoiding the used needles under their feet?

I haven't passed through here since I left for Primm and since that man with the eyepatch gave me the caps, coordinates, and security to come to New Vegas. "You'll make back the money," is what he said. Then with him and three securitrons, I traveled the wastes. Guess my talent was worth that much.

I wipe at the dirt collected on my brow and let my arm hang with the weight of my machete. I'm tired, exhausted even, but I'm so terribly close to New Vegas that the dull lights of the Lucky 38 make my stomach churn. 

I imagine how it will work out as I cross one of the streets. The Tops will be darkly lit. I'll rest my elbows on the counter and tell the Chairmen that Benny tried to kill me off. Their eyes will widen and then Swank (how I've always loved him) will toss me the key to Benny's suite, saying, "Every ghost stays around for some reason or another. Yours is revenge." And I'll nod and I'll start to walk and I'll take the elevator up to floor lucky number thirteen. I'll put the key in the lock and twist it and I think that on the other side of that door he'll be sitting in the dark in a red suede chair, smoking a cigarette that's held between his fingers. And when I open the door, his eyes will find mine and he'll clutch the arms of his chair, his cigarette falling to the floor. And I'll take the pistol from my hip and pull the trigger, closing my eyes and turning my face away from the bang. And then I'll leave, like I was never there.

I almost trip over two running kids, bringing me back to the present. 

"Hey, watch it, lady!" One of them shouts. He's chasing a girl in a dress around as she giggles. They look happy--happy enough for young kids living in a city where rats are a part of the daily cuisine.

On the sidewalk, I spot a couple: a girl with curly red hair that falls into her face and a boy with slicked back hair and a black leather jacket. But he's not a King, there are no letters on the back of his jacket, just a green splotch. I'm not close enough to see what it actually is. They lean over their Pip-Boys and talk to each other. They're speaking softly, like what they're saying is some kind of secret.

The girl reminds me of myself--the way she looks at the boy, her chubby cheeks making her eyes seem smaller than they are. She loves him, admires him, she'd give her life for his. She shouldn't live like that, she'll get herself shot in the head. 

I look away from the couple and take the steps I need to the edge of the gate. One of the securitrons wheels up to me asking me to produce a passport or 2,000 caps. Looks like the price has gone up.

I'd gone over the procedure of how I would get back into Vegas before I left to become a courier. I follow the steps now: I whip out my passport for the securitron to look at and he lets me pass, letting out a "Welcome to New Vegas."

The gates roll apart and my heart is bouncing in my rib cage. I can't stop it. I can't stop my stride from becoming longer as I run through the gates. _I'm back, I'm here! Your queen is back,_ I almost want to shout. Everything looks exactly the same, but did I think it would look different? Dean Martin sings over the speakers, the prostitutes dance outside of Gomorrah, the drunk NCR soldiers stumble around, waving the flag of their two-headed bear, and I feel high. 

I breathe out air and start to walk, steadying my face and heading for The Tops. 

"María," the sound of someone calling my name makes me turn. But it's not just anyone calling my name. I can hear the roll of the 'r,' the slight tilt on the 'i.' He's there. _Him._ Vulpes. In a brown suit with a bowtie. He looks odd--like a gambler who keeps losing. He lowers his eyes as he takes off his hat and presses it against his chest, like the men in those old holotapes. 

He calls me over with a gesture of his head and I follow. Vulpes takes me away from The Tops, toward a little corner near the Lucky 38 and begins to speak. 

"I know what you are going to do," he tells me. "I know that you are going to kill Benny."

"How do you know that?" I look at him, my eyes searching his face for some hint of emotion. 

"It does not take an intelligent man to see the look of revenge. Besides, if someone attempted to end my life, I would go after them too." He waves away the words, upset that he has to explain himself. 

"I ask a favor of you," he resumes. "Before you kill Benny, you  _must_ visit the Lucky 38. It is very important that you do so."

"But no one can go into the Lucky 38. Mr. House doesn't allow visitors." 

"I am sure he will make an exception for you, Courier. Will you do as I ask?" 

"Yes, but I--" 

"Your many questions will be answered once you visit House. I will be waiting here when you are done." He starts to walk past me. He's always leaving me confused. 

"How did you get here? Are you following me? Shouldn't you be back with your Lord?"

He laughs and with his back turned towards me, he says, "I walked. I am on a mission that involves you, it is not coincidental that we keep meeting. No, I received word from a messenger of another assignment. I did not need to visit Caesar. Now, please, go."

 _Go._ That's all I need to get me walking. I take the steps up to the entrance and once again find that annoying robot. He's following me too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? 200 hits, thanks guys!


	8. The Tops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize, everyone. I've kept you all waiting so long for the confrontation. Last week was exams and then of course I got sick, but now I'm actually feeling much better, so here it is. Also, I can't write House. I just can't. Probably lots of mistakes, I got carried away here.

"Lookie here, finally got to where you were tryna go. Well, guess what? The big man up there is waiting for ya. Why don't you come inside?" The cowboy robot seems happy to see me by the tone of his voice. I look up at him and then back down at Vulpes, whose face is hid behind a paper. His eyes catch mine as he briefly looks from beneath his hat and nods, telling me to follow the robot inside. So I do. 

The metal doors creak open and I step cross the barrier, looking behind me out into the street, scared that I won't be able to see it ever again. The inside of the Lucky 38 is dark and musky. It smells like pre-war cologne mixed with dust. There are two robots standing near the elevator doors and they bark out, "Move along," when I walk past them. 

"Now we're gonna head right up to the penthouse. That's where Mr. House is; he's just itchin' to meet you." 

"Alright," I mutter as the doors open and I step into the elevator. The faster I get this over with, the faster I can get to Benny. Oh, Benny, won't he be surprised when he finds out I got into the Lucky 38 before he did. Won't he be surprised when he sees me in The Tops. 

I breathe and touch my face with my hands. The elevator doors open again and I see more securitrons. There's one with the face of a woman on its screen, but I don't care to talk to it. 

I grip the handrail of the stairs and climb down, feeling nauseous. I'm not scared, I'm just nervous. The first person to ever meet Mr. House: me. And what will he say? Why do I have to visit him before I go to The Tops? Vulpes said my questions would be answered, but--

My thoughts stop. I'm standing in front of a monitor. House isn't a man, he's just another computer, like all the others here. 

"I'm glad you were wise enough to listen to Victor before you went to get your revenge. I think we will work well together. Now, we have much to discuss." 

"Yes, I think so. I have questions."

"Be quick about it," the monitor says: a man with parted hair and a moustache. 

"Who are you exactly? Are you a man?"

"Of course I am. I am Robert House, CEO of RobCo."

"But you're a computer. And RocCo...I thought that was a pre-war company."

"Don't let the monitor fool you. And yes, it is. Was, excuse me. Now is that all, we have important tasks on our hands? "

I shake my head, "Yeah, sure, sure." 

"Benny, the man who shot you in the head, took your package, you know that, correct?"

He did, didn't he? I hadn't even really cared about the chip until now. Wasn't it a chip? "Yes, what about it? I still haven't completed my delivery yet." 

"And now you will. The Platinum Chip is very important to me, and to Benny. The Chip was made before the Great War and was to be delivered to me, but of course, the bombs hit. It was recently found again and I needed someone to bring it here to me. You signed up, but Benny found out and now he plans to take control of New Vegas.

"But you see, he is my employee, he has no right. And now you are a great asset to me. You need your revenge and I need my Chip. All I ask is that you go into The Tops and take the Chip. I don't care what you do with Benny, but I warn you, he will have security. If you bring me back the Chip, you'll be paid. What do you say?"

I shake my head again. "You're throwing a lot at me. I'm only here for Benny. I never knew about all this Platinum Chip business."

"Well, now you're a part of it. Perhaps you shouldn't have signed up for the courier job. But, don't mind that--do you agree to the terms I've offered you?"

"I--I," I clear my throat. "Yes. I'll bring the Chip back to you."

"Good," I hear House say as I turn and leave. I think I have a headache now. 

"Guess what." Victor says. "The boss just gave you the high-roller suite. You can even bring your little friends in there. Now, where to, pardner?" 

"The Casino. I've got to leave."

"Alright, but be sure to come back soon."

"Yeah," I nod. I wait against the wall of the elevator as it takes me down to the casino floor. I hastily make my way outside, squinting from the bright light of the sun. People stop in their tracks and stare up at me. 

"I can't believe she just walked out of there."

"What was she doing in the Lucky 38?" I hear.

Vulpes breaks away from the gate as I come down the steps. He starts asking me questions before I even reach him. 

"What have you learned," he asks. He's doing a good job of steadying his excitement. 

"Many things." I don't trust him. He's Legion, I remind myself. He may be compelling and persuasive, but according to Benny, the Legion are finks.

He smirks at me. "Ah, yes. Come, we are going to The Tops."

"I'd rather go alone. It's my business, not yours. Why does it matter to you?"

"It matters to the Legion. And I am a part of the Legion. And you have just become a person of large importance to the Legion. Come, Courier."

I follow him, past the throng of people staring at me, past the second gate. 

My heart starts up again, and I touch the space above my left breast as if I can calm it. But I can't. I can't do anything now. My hands fumble as my eyes try to focus on a wrinkle in Vulpes' jacket as he opens the door to the casino. He grins at me as he holds the door, a devilish grin that makes me uncomfortable. 

Swank leans over the counter, talking to another of the Chairmen, but his head rises and he sports a surprised smile. 

"Is that you, Mari? Damn, you look so different without your curls and makeup. You look like a deathclaw chewed you up and spit you out," he laughs. "Did Benny just let you go that easily? Never thought you'd go back down to your little farm."

"I didn't. It's hard to explain." My face hurts from holding in tears. 

"I'm sure I'll understand. Tell it to me straight."

"I...Benny tried to kill me. I know, I know, it sounds crazy, but you have to listen to me." I grab his hands when he raises his eyebrows. "Listen, please listen. He took something from me, something of House's. He betrayed him. He's a rat, working for himself. He wants to take over New Vegas." I ramble on, telling Swank about Goodsprings and the shooting, only the parts I can remember. 

He looks at me and reaches down under his desk. He places a key in my hand. "Here, María. Go to his room, see what you can find. Good luck." I reach over the counter and hug him. 

"I knew you'd believe me," I mumble. I release him and adjust the pack on my shoulders. 

I see Vulpes walk past me and go up the stairs to the theater. I ignore him and head under the steps, to the elevators. 

Thirteen floors, the shake of a two-hundred year old elevator, the shake of my hands. Is he in his room? I don't want him to be there. It would bring back unwanted memories, make my head fuzzy. I wouldn't be able to pull the trigger.

I unlock the door to his room and search until I find a locked door. This door, this is one I didn't know about. It seems like after I left, he opened up the wall to the door. Why didn't he tell me about this? If he wanted to take over New Vegas and be its king, why not make me queen? 

I jiggle the key in the lock and I'm almost not surprised to find a securitron standing there.

"Hey, how are you?" A happy voice comes from the robot and the smiling monitor of a face makes me frown. 

"Where's Benny?" I ask. "Who are you?" 

"I'm Yes Man," the robot tells me. "Benny's downstairs." 

"Do you know about the Platinum Chip?"

"Well, of course I do. It opens some secret bunker of Mr. House's. But the bunker's underneath the Legion's Fort and the Legion aren't very friendly."

"What's in the bunker?"

"See, no one knows, but I bet if you went down there with the Platinum Chip, you'd find out. That's what Benny wants to do. Have I helped?" He asks eagerly. I don't even question his forthcoming attitude. 

"Yeah, you've helped a lot." I leave the room, trying to block out memories with the gripping feeling of revenge. _He shot you in the head, María. He tried to kill you. He wanted you dead, even if he said it wasn't personal. You didn't mean anything to him._

The elevator doors open to the first floor and I turn, seeing him in an idiotic checkered suit. It feels like bombs are bursting in my stomach. My hands are sweating. I'm trying to breathe, but I can't. 

He sees me before I've even reached him and he stumbles back, almost tripping. His mouth opens. I push one of his guards aside who lets out a  _hey,_ but doesn't bother to do anything to me.

Benny laughs nervously, "I can explain. Just don't make a scene, mama. We gotta keep this on the downlow, right?" I step closer to him, cornering him. I could shoot him now, but I instead reach in his breast pocket and pull out Maria, his gun. He's too slow to catch my wrist. I point it at him, my finger on the trigger. I could just pull it. 

My chest is heaving. Tears are starting to drip from my eyes slowly. "Why?" I shout, my voice wavering. "What were you thinking? How could you? I'd never do the same." I raise my voice so the gamblers can hear me. "Why'd you kill me?"

He's scared as he shakes his head and waves his hands. "You don't get it. It was never meant to work out this way."

"Oh, what? I was never meant to come out of that grave. I was just meant to rot. Do you even have feelings? What kind of man kills his own girlfriend? I loved you. I'd die for you. But not for your wants." I tighten my grip on the trigger. 

"Just let me explain. You're smart, smarter than me and I, well, I thought maybe you'd take the Chip for yourself and use it, rule this town. I couldn't have that, you know. Don't you understand?" 

"That's what you would you do. I'd never do what you would do. I cared. Three years. Three years, all down the drain. I--" I hear a shot and see Benny collapse and I do the first thing I can think of. I scramble to him. There are people screaming around me, shouting, looking for the shooter, the guards are moving now. The bullet didn't come from my gun. 

"Oh god. Oh fuck _. Mi amor_ , please, please." My hands go to his face as a jumble of Spanish and English comes from my mouth. Tears from my eyes make his image blurry, but I can feel the blood squirting from between his fingers and mine. He's choking, he's dying, he needs my help. I didn't want it to go this way. I didn't know it would hurt me so much now that he's in pain. Whoever shot him got him good in the neck. His blood is on my clothes, my face, my hands. Someone grabs my arm and hoists me up, but I pull against it. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Benny," I'm trying to talk, but the hand grabs me again, dragging me away on the carpet.

The hand lets me go and I see Vulpes in his brown suit stepping towards Benny. He reaches in the jacket pocket and pulls out the Chip. Benny is still coughing blood and grasping his neck and I'm on the ground. Then Vulpes turns and picks up Maria and grabs me and we scurry into the running crowd. The Chairmen and guards rush past us and I hide my wet face in my hands and sob. 


	9. The Mojave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 300 hits? Thank you all! This chapter's a present for you guys, I think.

"Stop, stop, please," I blubber. My wrists hurt, so does my face. Vulpes drops me to the ground and I fall into the sand. His sweating hand no longer holds my wrist. I lay there, trying to catch my breath as Vulpes loosens the tie from around his neck. I look up and see the glow of the lights. We're just outside the gates of Freeside. My tears have stopped. My face no longer contorts into an ugly frown.

There's calm throughout the Mojave, but there's the blow of the wind and the scream of people, the clink of broken glass, the sound of Vulpes' shoes on the sand as he moves about. My jumpsuit and duster are covered with blood and I want to reach to take them off, to maybe let the night clothe me instead. I don't know what to feel or how to feel. 

"Is this what you wanted?" Vulpes throws the gun at me, Maria, and I reach for it, touching the ivory and gold filigree. "That was very ignorant of you," I hear his voice again, implying harshness in his steady tone. 

"What was?" I ask, but I don't really want to know. I don't care what he thinks. 

"Not pulling the trigger when you had the opportunity. Legionaries always take the opportunity when it arises. You must, or your mission is failed." 

"I'm sorry, I'm no legionary."

"Oh yes, I know, María. You are a Courier. You let your emotions get the better of you."

I roll onto my back and imagine that he is touching me as he speaks. Kissing behind my ear as he reprimands me for feeling. Maybe he'll unclothe me and press me into the sand, trying to bury me like Benny did.

"You will follow me to the Fort. There, you will speak to Caesar and do as he asks. Understood?" 

I nod toward the sky. Here, you can't see the stars. 

"It will take four days for us to arrive. In those four days, you will follow my instructions exactly. For here, I am saving you from yourself. The Legion will save you from yourself."

"You talk like the Legion offers salvation. Like the Legion is the church, like the Legion is its own religion." 

"Because we are. Are you ready to rise?" 

I turn my head to look at him. I'm very, very tired. He watches me with his blue eyes and for a long while we are just staring at each other. He's beautiful--thin face, sunken cheeks, deep-set eyes, Roman nose. He's much more beautiful than I imagined angels to be. His lips part and he reaches for me. 

"We will make camp tonight, but in the morning, we must start travelling," he says. He's not wearing his hat anymore, exposing black, short hair. He looks like those sculptures of ancient emperors Papá showed me in books. How dissapointed Papá would be if he found out I'd cast myself off to another man. Maybe I'll visit him some day. And Mamá too...

* * *

 

_His fingertips trace the lines in my palms and he lets out a laugh._

_"I didn't know my mom good, but I remember she was some kind of fortune teller. Could read your palm for fifty caps. Made good money that way."_

_"Can you read palms?" I ask. My body is sweating. I've just lost my virginity, but Benny acts as if we've done this a thousand times. He looks old, but he is old. Fifteen years older than me. I did the math. I can feel his shins brush mine when I move my legs and I want to pull the covers up even farther to hide the tops of my breasts._

_"Nah, I don't think so. But I can try, if that's what you want." He flashes me a smile and I nod. "Okay, here goes." He touches the longest line of my palm. "Looks like you'll have a long life. And...two kids." He looks up at me again, grinning. My cheeks warm. "You'll settle down with a handsome man and start a family. You'll be the queen, living off the cash you bring in singing and you'll dress in pearls and velvet."_

_"How can you read all that from my palms?"_

_"I can't, but I know it's going to happen." And then he tackles me with a kiss. I laugh and he laughs and we're beautiful._

* * *

 

I wake and cry out, hunched over on my makeshift bedding that I don't remember making.

My hands claw at the fabric and I moan, then weep, then let myself sob, my curved back heaving with each noisy intake of breath. I'm dying again, but not from a bullet wound, from grief.

 _Maybe he's still alive_ , I tell myself. _Maybe he's just hurt_. But I know he bled out before they could save him.

Ugly sounds erupt from my mouth until an irritated voice interrupts me. 

"María, if you insist on making so much noise, please do it somewhere else." Through my tears, I see Vulpes lying on his own bed, facing away. 

There's a scuffed-out fire between us, but tendrils of smoke still rise from the ashes. 

I don't know what to say to him. My mouth is open, my throat dry, and my hands clutch the sides of my wet cheeks. 

"It's your fault," I say softly. "His was my life to end." 

Vulpes sits up. He scowls at me. "You should be grateful, woman, for I could've left you there to fend for yourself. You would have never gotten the Chip. You would have never left there." 

I choke out in pain, "But he was mine! It was my revenge and you went and--" 

"Do not scream at me." Vulpes spits. "Enough of this, go back to sleep."

"No, I won't." I get up from my bed. It's wrong to start this, but I'm so tired and frustrated that I don't even care anymore. I walk over to Vulpes and wait for him to stand. 

"What?" He says, standing across from me. He narrows his eyes. "I don't think you know what you're doing." 

I don't say anything, instead reaching to push him away from me. I make contact and he moves slightly and I'm swaying, waiting for him to do something. Waiting for him to hit me. I reach out to punch his face, but he grabs my hand and threatens to crush my bones, twisting my arm behind my back. He's standing behind me now, holding my hand while I try to fight him away with the other. "Ah, ah, ah," falls from my mouth. "You're hurting me." 

He hits the back of my knees and I fall, barely able to brace impact with my free arm. Vulpes grabs my other hand and puts his weight on my arms. He's sitting on my back as I squirm and move and try to get him off. He is silent. 

" _Ay, pendejo_ , let me go. _¡Maricón! ¡Eres maricón!_ Get off of me."

He ignores my curses and pulls my head back by my hair. His knuckles scrape my scalp. And without warning, he smashes my face into the dirt. Three more times, quick one after another, until I feel blood dripping from my busted lip. Jumbled cries are the only sounds I make. 

"What do you want, woman? You should be begging now and crying tears of joy that I did not break your nose. And what if I did, what if I kept going until your face was no longer your face? Until your skin broke and so did your bones and your blood spilled into the sand, until your skull cracked and your brains--" 

"Please, please can we just pretend this never happened? Can we just go back to sleep?" Blood and spit fly from my mouth as I try to breathe. 

"Oh no, we are not finished. What if I killed you now? Would you rise from your grave and come and chase me down just to be too afraid to kill me?" I can hear the cruel smile in his voice.

"No, I'd kill you! I'd kill you the instant I saw you." 

"Ah, yes, just like you killed Benny?" 

"Fuck you!" I arch my hips to try and get him off but he's too heavy. 

"I don't think you'd have the strength to." And then he drops my head and stands. I hear his footsteps as he walks away from me. 

I turn my face so that my cheek is pillowed by the sand and I try not to breathe in dust. My eyes shut. I know I'll have bruises tomorrow morning. 


	10. The Fort

The sun bakes the desert this morning. There is meat roasting over the fire and Vulpes' bedding is already rolled up. I touch my face gingerly, pressing spots with my fingertips to check for bruises. My cheeks hurt the worst and I guess they've turned purple.  
  
I get up from the bed and go over to the fire, picking at the meat and trying not to burn myself. A hot chunk passes through my lips when Vulpes speaks to me.  
  
"Take the meat and put out the fire, we are leaving." I don't turn to look at him. I guess we're not going to talk about what happened and I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing his handiwork.  
  
I take the pan the meat sits in and kick sand onto the flame, watching as it dies.

I scoop up my bag with my free hand and go to stand near Vulpes. He's not much taller than me, but by keeping my head low, I only see his chest and torso.

"Eat the rest of the food," he commands. I can't see his eyes, but I feel them as I chew, staring me down, waiting for me to look up. I finish my meal and throw the pan, which hits the sand with a dull clunk.

He leads me away from our campsite and onto the asphalt, and we walk.

The days and nights pass in silence. He only speaks to me to tell me to wake up, to put out the fire, to sit watch while he sleeps. And sometimes instead of watching for movement, I watch his back. Hard, straight, solid in his dirty white shirt, moving with each slow breath he takes. And then he turns and I see his face swathed with moonlight; his pale lips parted, his eyelashes casting dark shadows on his cheeks and he seems pure and holy and virginal.

But then morning comes and his breath smells of meat and he's human again.

* * *

He does not seem human when we arrive at the Fort. Lower ranking soldiers salute him and slaves bow their heads to stare at their feet when he passes. He holds his chin high and walks with grace up to Caesar's tent. 

Guards greet him and one reaches out to hold the flap of the tent open. It's like I'm not really there, as if I'm just Vulpes' shadow, there, but only when the light shines at the right angle. 

At the end of the large expanse of tent, a man sits in a chair, no, a throne. He must be their Caesar. 

I don't feel afraid. I'm not afraid of humans. Deathclaws or feral ghouls, maybe, but definitely not humans and definitely not this man, whose face is wrinkled and whose hair is balding. I enjoy looking down at him until Vulpes barks for me to kneel. He has taken his place beside Caesar. I lower myself and have to stare up now, waiting for Caesar to speak in Latin and for Vulpes to translate. But instead he has a rough accent and speaks English. 

"Well, look at this. The courier everyone has been talking about. Crawled out of that grave, huh? But didn't even have the guts to kill the man who shot you. He was even fucking you before he tried to kill you, wasn't he?" My eyes narrow at his last two sentences as a smile lights up on his face.

"That's none of your business. It isn't professional--" 

The back of his hand, the one without the metal weapon, hits my cheek hard. I don't have time to hold in the sob that burst forth. I touch my cheek, my bruised cheek. Tears threaten to spill over, but I swallow and look up at Caesar who shakes his red hand. 

"I should remind you that you are nothing but a degenerate. A profligate. A woman. You have no say as to what is professional or not. This is my house, Courier. You play by my rules. Now, you're probably wondering why you're here. Vulpes?" He turns to Vulpes, who slips the Chip from his pocket and places it in Caesar's hand. 

"This," he holds it out for me to see, "now this is what we need. I'm sure you know what this does. So, I want you to go down into that weather station over there." He jabs his thumb to the right of him. "And destroy whatever's in that bunker, got it?" 

It takes me a second to pull my hands away my face and to respond. "Yes," I tell him. "I'll do it." 

He grins and leans back in his throne. "Good." And I take the Chip from his outstretched hand. I get up from my feet and begin to walk away, only to be stopped by his voice. "Oh, and remember, Courier, you are dispensable." 


	11. The Bunker

The Fort looks over the Colorado, looming, claiming it in its shadow. Soon, it won’t mean anything to me. I’ll leave, on my own, and go North. North is away from everything and everyone.

But for now, I walk to the weather station, the Chip clasped in my fist. A man greets me once I've entered the station.

" _Ave_ , Courier. Caesar has permitted your use of your weapons, but only in destroying the contents of the bunker." He hands me back my bag, which I put on my shoulder. The men I pass seem skeptical of me. Maybe it's because I am a profligate, as Caesar says, or maybe because I am a woman and to them, women dress in rags with painted x's and lug heavy objects. So then, should I be grateful?

My hands fondle the buttons until I find a slot, just big enough for the Chip to be placed in. I watch as the doors with the Lucky 38 symbol part. I look back at the Legion man standing by the door, but he isn't watching as my feet find the stairs. If whatever is down here is important enough to kill over, then I should be wary.

There's a monitor at the bottom of the stairs and House's face flashes onto it.

"Courier," he says. I almost didn't expect him to be able to speak through any other monitors than the one at the Lucky 38. "I heard that Benny was killed. So why didn't you bring the Chip to me as I asked?"

"I--the Legion requested my presence." I bow my head in slight shame.

"Yes, of course they did. And Caesar wants you to destroy my bunker doesn't he?"

"He does. I must do as he asks, he says." My voice comes out fragile, soft, breathy.

"I will remind you one more time, I am offering you a large sum of caps. And besides, think of--" I turn, I don't want to hear the other options, the other choices, because I don't care. I'm tired. I'm just doing a job I was asked to do.

House tells me I'm making the wrong decision, that I don't know what I'm doing. And I know that I don't.

* * *

There are several generators powering the bunker. I aim my pistol at the first one I see and pull the trigger. It doesn't matter to me what the bunker contains, so I move on to the next generator, standing back as metal bursts from it. I wind through the hallways, blowing up the occasional protectron or turret and searching for the remaining generators. Two more and I hear a voice in the bunker calling for evacuation, so I listen, running up the stairs, past the green face of House and out into the weather station. There's a loud bang and I close the doors to stop all of the smoke from seeping out. I take the Chip and put it into my pocket.

"Your weapons?" The legionary in the corner of the station looks over at me, my chest moving up and down from exhaustion. There is sweat dripping into my eyes. He reaches out his hand and I slip my bag off my shoulder and hand him the pistol out of my holster. He dismisses me by saying that I should go see Caesar.

I leave and step out back onto the grounds of the Fort. There are already men gathered around the doors, muttering to each other in hushed voices as I walk past them. They watch me and I can't really tell what expressions line their faces.

A guard holds the red flap of Caesar's tent open, not looking at me as I duck under his arm and the fabric. Caesar is sitting forward in his throne and when he sees me, he smiles.

"I heard the explosion all the way from here. Good. The next step is taking out House. You got it?"

I nod my head, but he shakes his.

"Now, go. I'm sure Vulpes has some work for you." He touches his forehead and waves me away.

I have no intention to go see Vulpes, but I step into the night air out of Caesar's tent. The smell of cooking meat and burning wood is on the wind and the sounds of mens' voices accompany my sigh.

I walk until I reach the very edge of the Fort, on a cliff overlooking the river. The moon shines down into it, its light playing on the water. It's now that I'm surprised that the sun and the moon still exist, that they weren't destroyed in the Great War, that they are not as mortal as humans. But maybe Vulpes can be excluded from that list. He isn't mortal. He will outlive us all.

"It is good that you destroyed that bunker. But besides that, I have...jobs for you." I don't even hear him walk up beside me, but I can feel his presence.

I grunt and turn my head to the left, away from him. I won't talk to him for as long as I can.

"A woman working as an operative for the Legion, a Martina Groesbeck, has gained the suspicion of the Omertas. Make sure they do not talk to her again. She is staying at Vault 21."

"I never said I would take the job." I squeeze my eyes shut and wince, partially because of the bruises and because of my stupidity. I am an idiot.

"You speak, but only to protest. At least you listened when your mouth was shut." I can hear him moving and feel his body heat as he places his hand on my shoulder. "And of course, the most attractive woman is a silent one." He lets me go, but not before saying, "I will ask one of the slaves to prepare a bath. You smell of blood and sweat."


	12. The Recruit

My knees stick out of the water like islands. I shut my eyes and let my head fall onto my shoulder. I am so tired and the water and the steam surround me, making me want to fall asleep. The slaves, women, brought me hot water and dumped the buckets into a metal bathtub. Their eyes were on the ground, on their feet and when I mumbled 'thank you' or said anything to them, they quickly said 'excuse me, ma'am' and I wondered what they were thinking of me as they left, how they felt about me. I undressed after they left, but not before tying the knot of my tent on the inside and pushing a box near the opening. I was alone and the water was calling my name.

I run my hands on my face and through my short hair, dunking my dirty hands back in the water to wash them off. I think of Vulpes. How if he was here with me, he'd tell me that I need to be healed, that I'm trying, but I'm still not there yet, that the Legion will save me--that he'll save me. And then he'd kiss my neck, run his hands up and down my back and I'd lean my head against the metal and sigh. He'd leave purple spots on my skin as decoration.

I almost fall out of the tub, my legs weak and my body heavy from the heat. The slaves left me a dress, red, like the Legion. I dry myself and slip my undergarments back on, and then the dress, which rubs harsh against my skin. I'd rather be in armor. I tie my boots before I remove the box from its place and untie the string holding the tent flaps together.

The recruits gather around a fire, cooking meat, and there are a whole group of soldiers eating dinner under a tent. My eyes look for Vulpes, even though I don't search for him. He is the only familiar thing I know, beside the feel of Maria in my hands. But it is stocked away from me, in my bag, in a crate.

The recruits look up from their meals as I pass and I catch their gazes in mine. They are young, even younger than me, and their eyes look dead. I leave them and navigate my way through the camp until I find Vulpes. And I want to walk away, but it seems he knows, because he turns and looks at me.

"Yes?" He asks, and I want to say that my feet bring me to him, even when I don't want to go. I furrow my brows as I glance up at him. "Do you wish to speak to me?" He asks.

And I contemplate which would affect him more, me staring at him, or my words. He told me that I should be silent, so I open my mouth: "Tell me of the Legion. The boys--the recruits, they look dead."

He grunts and blinks at me. "Caesar is the conquerer of eighty-six tribes. Those boys you see are tribals, unless they were birthed under the Legion flag. But even then, they have tribal blood--as I'm sure you do also."

"No, I'm not. So does that mean you came from a tribe?"

"Yes, from one to the north. From the Utah. In the Legion, I found guidance and my true potential. I have been saved. Perhaps you will be too." He raises an eyebrow at me and then a corner of his mouth turns up. "I have some questions for you, María. Firstly, the gun. Are you named after it? Is María your true name?"

I wonder if he's being serious because I can't tell with the way he's smirking. "My mother gave me this name. The gun--it's named after me."

"I see. Another, if you don't mind. Why are you staying, hmm? You could walk out now if you wish--leave. You would be at risk to have the wrath of Caesar upon you, but why not leave?" He crosses his arms, examining me.

"Do you want me to leave," I try. I'm not good at speaking, but I know that revealing information to Vulpes is not a good choice.

"That was not the question. I'm only asking because I'm curious."

"You're only asking because you don't trust me."

He steps closer to me, and I notice dents in his armor, dust on the red of his tunic. They remind me that he is not as perfect as he thinks he is. "Do not assign a motive for me. Only I have that right." His lips are parted, revealing white teeth. I watch his eyes, moving as they track different sections of my face, and then past my shoulder, then back to my face. I feel his fingers brush mine, rough skin. He grabs my hand fully, slipping his fingers through the spaces between mine. He smirks at me, almost as if he's asking: Will you make the move?

"Inculta, Sir! There's a new recruit...He, he does not speak English." A soldier comes running up to us, chest heaving.

Vulpes still holds my hand tight. "And why are telling me this? I am not a translator. If he proves of no use, I'm sure the mongrels are hungry."

I look up at him, his eyes trained on the soldier--his gaze cold. But he wouldn't just get rid of a recruit like that, would he? Just a boy? He said himself that he was once a boy.

"Sir, maybe you should speak to him, his language sounds almost like Latin. Maybe you could understand him. He proved his worth when we brought him here: he knocked out one of our men. You yourself would say he has spirit."

"Hmm. I will see for myself." And Vulpes breaks his hand away from mine, walking away with the soldier. I follow, I have nothing else to do but follow.

Our feet drag through the sand as we come toward the center of the Fort. There, a boy struggles in the grasp of a soldier, kicking up dust and telling the man in Spanish to "let him go."

I touch Vulpes's arm lightly. "The boy is speaking Spanish," I tell him. He turns to look at me and frowns.

"Then go speak to him." He pushes me along and I stumble. The soldier holding the boy seems strong enough to kill me with his hands, so I move slowly toward him.

" _Shh, calmete. Mi nombre es María y intiendo tu problema. Venga aquí, por favor."_   I reach for him and look at the man holding the boy. "Will you let him go? He doesn't understand what you're saying. He's young." The soldier looks over my shoulder and I hear Vulpes's voice.

"Let him go, that's enough. Let the woman have him."

The boy stares at me as the soldier releases him. He mumbles in Spanish, his words fast, quick, and it's hard to keep up. His brown eyes dart across my face as he moves away from the soldier. "You are a free woman? Who are you? Are you that man's wife?" He points at Vulpes and I shake my head and feel a slight unsettling in my stomach at the thought.  

"No, I'm not. I'm a courier, a mailman, that's all. Are you alright?"

"Yes, of course. I'm fine. Those idiots, they don't even understand me and they go spewing their Latin like they know what they are talking about." His blonde curls bounce as he complains. His skin is tan, darker than mine and his features are sharp. He's handsome and reminds me of the boys from the farm, except their minds and hair were dark.

"Do you have a name?"

"No," he tells me and he wipes his face. "At least not one I want to have."

"What can I call you, then?" I furrow my brows at him and wonder how old he is. Barely seventeen, I think, but he looks older with the wrinkles around his eyes when he squints.

"Whatever you want."

"Then I'll call you Sol."

He laughs at this and looks away. "Like the god," he snorts.

"What, María? What is he saying?" Vulpes asks from behind me.

"His name is Sol," I tell him.

"Sun? Ha. Tell him to go eat, and that his training begins tomorrow."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon: Vulpes knows more Latin than anyone else.
> 
> Shh, calmete. Mi nombre es María y intiendo tu problema. Venga aquí, por favor means: "Calm down. My name is Maria and I understand your problem. Come here, please."


	13. The Feast

Underneath a large red tent, a long table is set up and men already sit at it, talking to each other and eating the food the slaves serve to them. A soldier swipes at a girl's hand and yells at her for serving him raw Brahmin.

"Come, eat," Vulpes tells me and I gesture for Sol to follow. But Vulpes raises a hand, "No, the boy eats with the other recruits. You will come with me. A celebration of your alliance with the Legion, perhaps? Besides, I'm sure you are hungry."

I turn to look at Sol, who shakes his head. "It's alright. I can handle myself." And he walks off before I can tell him anything. 

I look up to see Vulpes watching me. "Come," he mumbles, hand extended. I reach out and take it, grasping it clumsily. He leads me to the tent and nods to the bench across from him as he sits down.

I sit, holding my dress to my legs as I do so. There is already a man sitting down in the spot next to me. He grins, showing his crooked, dirty teeth. "So, you're the courier everyone is talking about?" He rips off a piece of his Brahmin steak and sticks it in his mouth, the tips of his fingers wet with saliva.

But I don't have time to answer him when a large bowl of potatoes is set on the table. Gloved hands reach for the steaming bowl, pulling it towards them. I look at Vulpes, who is staring down the table at the moving bowl. He turns his gaze to me, then back the bowl.

"Enough, give me that." He reaches for the bowl and grips the edge. "You all act like animals, no better than the mongrels." He places it in front of me. Only a few potatoes remain, slightly covered in water and steaming from the heat. I gingerly reach in and take one, setting it on the metal plate in front of me. 

He takes one too and passes it back to the hungry men.

"Is this how Legion dinners are?" I ask him. 

"Yes," he says, cutting a steak that was set out for someone else. "Caesar is usually here to stop the...uncivilized behavior that occurs, but he is ill. He has had another headache. Open." He is holding out the meat for me and I reach to take it with my fingers. 

"No, no, no. Open your mouth." I lean forward and watch the smile of satisfaction that begins to spread across Vulpes's face as I eat the food from his fork. I glance around to see if the other men have noticed, but they are preoccupied with their meals. 

"Are you still concerned about going back to New Vegas to find Martina Groesbeck?" Vulpes asks me, already holding out his fork again for me to eat off of. 

"I want to rest first, before I go," I say, taking his offering with my hands. 

"I see," he says sharply as he returns his fork to his table. 

"Hey, are you going to eat that?" The man next to me points at my potato. 

"I..." 

"Eat your own food, Antony. Or have you been feeding it all to your dog?" Vulpes grunts. 

"What? No, I only gave her a little that's all." A large dog wanders around behind him, whining for food. 

"I have another task for you, María, if you feel the earlier assignment I have given is bothering you." He eats his own food now, and speaks to me, looking me straight in the eye. "A very important town that is under Legion control needs to be, shall we say: checked on. Nelson is under the command of Decanus Dead Sea. Perhaps you could pay a visit to him tomorrow?" 

I trace the lines of the wood with my finger. "I'll see about it." My hands want to reach for Vulpes's, one of which holds his plate. The other holds his fork. I can see the protruding veins, the scars, the lines on his knuckles. His fork clatters to his plate.

Vulpes stands and looks down at me. "Will you come with me? I wish to speak privately with you."

"About what?" I stand slowly, the back of my knees sliding past the bench. 

"Do not be alarmed." He leaves the tent easily, past the slaves serving the food and the men who choose not to sit. I walk after him, toward another tent farther away. There are tents everywhere in the fort. His boots leave impressions in the sand and I step into them, like a child.

He lets me go in first. There is a bed against one side of the tent, a desk right in front of me, a couch on the other side, and a bookshelf beside it. Vulpes goes to the desk and lights a candle, scraping a match against the wood of the table. The tent is lit up with an eerie moving light. 

He doesn't say anything, just lets me look through his bookshelf, touching the spines. There is a dictionary in Latin and English and a book on Roman mythology. I slide both from their places.

He eyes me, his face morphed by the shadows. He looks gaunt.

I set them down on his desk and sit in the chair, without his permission. I open the dictionary first, my fingertips running over the vowel-laden words. 

"Can you speak fluently?" I ask, wishing to hear his mouth form more words than just his name. 

"Perhaps not fluently, but I know much more than most." I feel one of his hands on my shoulder, playing with the strap of my dress. "What would you like me to say?" 

"Whatever you want to." I feel anxious, waiting for him to speak as he touches my shoulder.

" _Per angusta ad augusta_. I was told this as a recruit. 'Through difficulties to honors.' An important lesson to be taught in the Legion."

I savor the way he caresses the words as he speaks and can only imagine the shapes his tongue makes. "Say more to me." 

"If you wish. _Omnia dicta fortiora si dicta Latina,"_ he breathes. "True, isn't it? 'Everything said in Latin sounds more impressive.'"

"Yes." I replace the dictionary with the book of mythology and flip through until I find Minerva, who I read about as a child, but she was called Athena in the books I had. 

"Minerva, sprang from her father's head in full armor after he swallowed her and her mother whole." Vulpes touches my hair gently, and whispers, "Is she who you aspire to be?" 

I move a little at his touch, silently pleading for more. "No, I don't aspire to be anyone. I--you said you wanted to speak with me." 

"Yes, I forgot. I wanted to ask you what you plan on gaining from your alliance with the Legion."

"I don't plan on gaining anything."

"But you have stayed. As I said earlier, you could leave."

"You told me I must do everything Caesar says to do. I'm staying because you told me to." 

"So this is a duty to me?" His hand touches my cheek, brushing the bruised skin. Has he remembered what he left on me?

"I suppose so," I act rashly and touch his hand on my cheek, fingers sliding over his knuckles.

"María?"

"Yes?" I run my fingers over his and lean into his caress.

"I'm enjoying this game we play, but you have a long day tomorrow. We can play more when you get back from Nelson," he tells me. 

So I take my hand from his and stand. We stare at each other. He can read me like a piece of paper. 

"Goodnight," he tells me and I leave, finding my way back to my own tent. He's right, I have a long day tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vulpes's cheekbones are actually works of art.  
> Also, I have the perfect song for María and Vulpes: "I Love You" by Woodkid. I'm trying to develop their relationship more, so that's what this is. I had to get some quality Latin in here too, so there you go.


	14. The Assignment

When I wake, there is a note and necklace lying near the threshold of the tent. I take both in my hands and run my fingers over the piece of paper.

 _Speak to the merchant, tell him I sent you. He will give you armor. I have sent with this note the Mark of Caesar. It will ensure you safe travel from here to Nelson. Good luck, María_ is written in a small, sharp hand on the note. I hold the necklace up. Caesar's profile on one side of the metal, the bull of the Legion on the other. I slip it around my neck and it lies heavy on my sternum. I take the note with me as I go to the find the merchant.

I can hear the sound of the recruits practicing, attacking dummies with their dull machetes. I wonder if Sol is among them, his limbs sweating as he swings the blade into the burlap of the dummy. I know I won't have time to speak with him anyways. I want to ask if he's alright.

I have noticed that here, the sky looks red. The sun hides behind maroon clouds in the afternoons. I shake my heavy head and walk toward the entrance of the Fort, where Vulpes and I entered through. 

I find a man in a cowboy hat, who immediately opens up his big duffle bag. 

"I'm guessing you're the one the soldier told me to look for. Ain't any other women around her walking around without collars on their necks," he says quietly to me. "Here." He pulls a folded-up set of leather armor from his bag and hands it to me. And when I hesitate to take it he shoves it in my hands. "The pale one paid for it already, it's yours." 

"Um, thank you..." I put the clothing under my arm and nod quickly, then repeat the steps I took back to my tent. I change in little time and take my weapons back from the greeter at the gate.

The cursor looks down at me, "Are you ready to return to Cottonwood Cove?"

* * *

Nelson smells of smoke and blood, the embodiment of the Legion. NCR soldiers hang like scarecrows in the center of the town. From where I stand, I can see the men in their armor moving back and forth, dogs following them, and then one of the men, his head covered by a brown hood, spots me. my first instinct is to reach for Maria at my hip, but the man yells, "Stand down, woman!"

My legs stumble and I remove my hand from Maria, placing it on my collarbone, searching blindly for the cord of the necklace.

"What is your business here, profligate?"

"I was sent by Vulpes Inculta," I tell the man as I yank the Mark up to show him. "I...I've been sent to speak with your Decanus."

The man narrows his eyes, then backs away from me, turning. "Follow me."

The hanging NCR soldiers groan as I pass, their eyes begging for freedom, for a bullet in their skull. Maria stays in the holster at my hip, untouched.

I enter a cabin after the soldier and am met by three men, two behind the one in the center. I can't see his face behind his goggles and the mask, but I can hear by his voice that he is scowling.

"So this is who they send? A profligate? And a woman at that..." He shakes his head. "I am trying to keep Nelson contained and you are my reinforcement? Perhaps this is a test. Tell me, what are you doing here?" 

"I was sent to help you. You must be Dead Sea."

"Yes, who else would I be?" He takes his hand from his forehead and waves it around wildly. "Who are you?"

"A courier. Does Nelson need help?"

"Of course it does! Ugh, how am I supposed to communicate with an ignorant profligate whore?" He runs his hands up and down his covered face and groans. "Go to Camp Forlorn Hope, take out the officers. That's all you have to do, simple enough?"

"How will that help Nelson?"

"They are a threat to securing this town, now leave, before I change my mind!" I can hear the exasperation in his voice.

I furrow my brows and frown at the man. He's angry and staying any longer would probably cause him to throw something at me, so I exit the cabin, listening to my boots hitting the floorboards.

The cursor who told me the location of Nelson also told of the nearby Camp Forlorn Hope, an NCR settlement that was in a stalemate with the Legion. I wipe the dirt off the screen of my Pip-Boy. I'm still not used to controlling the machine, but by pressing a few buttons, I mark the camp on my map and follow the compass.

My boots dig into the cliffs overlooking the camps. There are children and women not dressed in the sandy tan outfits of the NCR, so I look past them to the ones coming out of their tents, guns strapped to their backs, shiny dog tags glinting in the sun. I slide down the sand, almost falling before I reach flat land.

'Woah, where the hell'd you come from?" A man in a bloody shirt asks.

"Do you know where I can find the people who run this camp?"

He laughs, "Yeah, there's two in that big tent over there, the major and whats-his-name, me, and the quartermaster in that direction."

"Thank you," I tell him as I fumble with Maria. He doesn't even think I'm going to shoot him, I can see it in his eyes as I pull the trigger. I swipe his dog tags as evidence.

There's a scream, "Gunshots, I heard gunshots!" The civilians flee, and soldiers leave their posts to come in my direction. I quickly stuff Maria in my pants and turn away, moving toward the large tent the surgeon mentioned. The green tent almost comes as a shock. Red seems as if it's the only color tents can be.

I enter the tent, pushing the flaps aside, but am immediately stopped by a guard.

"Get out, civilian, there are--wait, who are you?" She earns herself a gunshot to the chest as I slide under the table beside her, taking out two men who are coming toward me from behind a desk. The guard's bloody hand weakly grabs my ankle. I'm already looking for more tan soldiers when I shoot her again. Another enters, and two more after him, searching for me.

"I know you're here, you Legion bitch. Ain't going anywhere once we get you."

I carefully reach into my bag, pulling out a mine Vulpes picked up from a raider on our travels. I arm it and throw it out from under the table, just as the soldiers are skulking by. The signature beep is my cue to run, so I scramble out of the tent, heavy bag hitting my hip as I run. When the mine goes off, I stare out at the camp. The silence is scaring me until I hear gruff voices, "She's here! She's right here. I've got her in my sights!"

I used to run laps with the boys back at the farm. _"Ey_ , mami _, think you can catch me? Bet you ten caps you can't!"_

 _"Your loss,_ chico _."_ And I'd set off once Julio fired his revolver into the sky. His brother would always be paces behind me, or at least that's how I saw it.

So that's what I'm imagining now, trying to run faster and farther than Julio's brother, or the NCR soldiers. I drop another mine as I scurry between two rocks and keep running until I hear the explosion and yelps of pain behind me.

My legs are sore and tired by the time I stumble into Dead Sea's cabin. I drop the single pair of dog tags at his feet.

"Where are the rest?" He asks.

"They are all dead, all of them. They chased me, but they are all dead." My voice loses its strength as I speak to him.

"Maybe I underestimated you, woman." He snatches the dog tags from the floor. "You didn't bring me all of them, but..." His words fade off as pulls the machete from his hip. My heartbeat speeds up and my eyes widen.

"But I did as you asked." I mumble, backing away.

He grunts out a laugh. " _This_ is a gift: the weapon. Take it as I took it from my centurion before me." I calm as he holds the blade out for me and I pick it up from his hands. It's sharp, rusted at the hilt, and Latin words are scratched into the handle. "Liberator. I hope you will do with it as I have done: liberate. Now, go. I'm sure Caesar is expecting your report."

And like that I am ushered out of Nelson. Liberator rests heavy in my hands as I walk. It is as if the weapon is itching to be used, to be swung and connected with bone and muscle and skin.

* * *

The sky is red by the time I walk through the gates of the Fort.

"Tell me, what occurred?" Vulpes leans against the metal wall, his head tilted to one side. He eyes the new weapon.

"Camp Forlorn Hope isn't going to be a threat to Nelson anymore," I tell him.

"And the weapon?" He motions with his hand for me to follow.

"Dead Sea gave it to me. Said it was a gift."

"A gift indeed. You must have made an impression on him." Once again, we enter his tent, me first, him second. I watch as he sits on the couch, leaning into the furniture. It's odd to see him look comfortable. He is still wearing the smirk he wore last night. "Come, sit," his voice cool, clear, relaxed. I feel exposed. The distance between him and me seems like a mile and as I walk it, I keep my eyes on anything but him.

I sit next to him, rubbing my sweaty palms together. I stay silent as he speaks again.

"You are quite something, aren't you, María?" He reaches over to touch the hair behind my ear.

"I...I don't know." I stare down at my folded hands in my lap. I feel uncomfortable with the machete at my side, so I unsheathe it and set it beside me on the ground, awkwardly angling my body to not hit Vulpes.

And when my body hits the back of the couch again, Vulpes snakes an arm behind my head, pulling me forward while he guides my hand toward his. My body is twisted to face him. Our fingers connect and he nuzzles my neck.

"Is this what you've been waiting for?" He breathes in and lets a gasp of breath out onto my skin. I shiver and let my hand cradle the back of his head, pushing him toward me, answering his question.

"Your skin must taste sweet." He whispers. His lips brush my neck, slow, so painfully slow. But before he can open his mouth, I nudge his chin up with my knuckles. He stares up at me from under dark eyelashes, lips parted, and I notice how young he looks, how besides the miniscule scars decorating his face, he looks so young.

My brows meet and I rub my thumb over his lips. I drop my head down, meet his lips with mine, and feel a terrible fire start in my heart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> URgh, what is happening? Dead Sea is a neurotic small man, that is all. I'm ready for the comments.


	15. The Promise

Vulpes's touches are feather-light. His skin is neither warm nor cold and his hands are rough on my arms. Isn't this what I wanted, what I imagined playing out in my head? His tongue is in my mouth and he's reaching for my armor. I pull away. 

I leave him there, bent, mouth open and walk toward the entrance of his tent. He doesn't say anything as I leave, but wipes my spit from his lips. His arms are limp and lie resting, waiting for my weight again.

I turn and hope he doesn't follow. 

Sol eyes me when we pass: my messy hair, downcast gaze. He jumbles out in Spanish how he needs a translator to speak with the centurions--how they won't take the time to understand him, and if I can help him. Maybe unconsciously he knows what I've done. 

"I'll help," I murmur, but my mind is so lost that I struggle to translate even when speaking with him. 

We pass through throngs of men, past the dummies where he should be practicing, and takes me behind the weather station.

His voice is thick and he speaks quickly, "I lied, yes, but I want to warn you."

"Of what?" A fly buzzes in my ear and I swat it away.

" _El zorro._ "

"The fox?" I question.

"That man, the pale one, whose tent you came out of." Sol furrows his brows and spits out at me in an accusatory tone.

My face burns and I look away. "Why do you call him that?"

"Have you seen the way he stalks his prey. Like a fox from pre-war encyclopedias. His eyes catch any movement. He is clever, knows how to slip from your hands, but then, place a machete between your ribs. I have seen how he treats his troops. He is not someone to cross. I believe he has evil intentions."

I stare at him, the dirt collected in the wrinkles around his squinting eyes and shake my head. "Everyone in the Legion is evil."

* * *

 

I sit with the recruits at dinner, near Sol. He shares more gossip with me. He says he is picking up bits of English from the recruits and gags as he explains that the language is harsh and guttural in his mouth. He stumbles out a broken "hello" to demonstrate. There is a gap between his teeth and freckles dot his tan face. He grins while he eats. He only speaks to me.

"It's good to speak my language without ridicule..." His voice fades as his eyes avert from my face to behind me and then he hunches down over his plate quickly.

I hear the clear of a throat and my name being called, a summons, "María."

Vulpes stands in front of me, my new machete, Liberator, in his hands. His face is indifferent and I am not sure what I should say.

"You left without taking this," he offers the weapon to me and I take it, thank him, and stand to sheath it. He crosses his arms and continues speaking. "Why are sitting here with the recruits. You are not one, so why lower yourself? I have already invited you to sit with the officers, so come, sit with me."

He nods toward the table and waits for my response. I wonder what would happen if I said 'no.' His eyes leave my face for a brief moment and he seems to be focusing on the Mark around my neck, lying on my chest outside my armor, telling all that I have been chosen.

I reach to grab my plate, but he mutters that Caesar is awaiting me and that far better food will be served in the large tent.

I walk beside him and we seem to be moving as slow as possible. Up on the hill, where the officers' tent is, I can see the light of the fires appear. But Vulpes does not take me up the hill. He stops me far away from the soldiers.

"Do you always not finish what you start?" He isn't looking at me. Instead, he stares off at the Colorado and breathes.

It takes me a while to decide what I want to say, and he waits. My hands begin to sweat and I quickly change the subject. "Martina, the informant in Vault 21, does she still need to be checked on?"

He snorts. I look at my boots. "How old are you, María?"

Benny never said my name right. Never said my name at all. It was always "mama," "baby-girl" all the time. I wish Vulpes would stop saying my name.

"Twenty-two." A harsh wind blows and goosebumps pop up on my skin.

"You are older than most wives of officers. They prefer them young, better to control, they say. The men may be twenty or more years older than the girls. Wasn't Benny older than you?"

I touch my face and resist turning to say anything to him.

"How was he? As a lover? Do you think he would have died for you, risked his life? I am sure he made you feel wonderful, like a queen, but did he truly care for you?" Vulpes has turned to me instead, and pulled my limp body close. His hand rests on the back of my neck. He's so wonderfully warm compared to the tears already running down my cheeks. Vulpes doesn't wait for me to answer, but he tugs my face towards his. His tired eyes focus on mine. "Tell me, what did he offer you? Besides pleasure? He was not a man. He had the robots of Mr. House protect you. He could never defend you--he wouldn't want to. He was a coward, that is why he placed a bullet in your head."

His lips touch my temple, where the scar is. What he's telling me is right, Benny never really had the courage. He could only survive behind velvet-covered walls. He had gotten too used to it. He had forgotten how to fight.

"I have more than he ever had to offer you. I hope you have already made this realization." He tilts my head and kisses me. "Tell me what you desire and it will be yours," he says onto my lips.

My hands make a slow ascension to his face, fingertips glossing over his skin. I wish I could tell him that I desire him. But I can't. His lips are soft as they touch my jaw. He opens his mouth just a little, catches my skin between his teeth. I feel weightless. My head is tilted and I reach around to grasp his hair in my hand. I push his face down more, to my neck: sensitive skin. I want him to leave those purple splotches that I crave. 

"Paint me," I whisper. The wind reminds me that we are still outside. I want to say soft things in his ear and have him murmur them back to me.

"Anything, María," he tells me as he angles his head into the curve of my shoulder and jaw. 

My mind wanders as I brush my fingers through his hair. Benny always had pomade in his, slicked back, but Vulpes's hair is soft and short. Everything about him is perfect, beautiful and perfect. 

"Sir! Caesar requests the courier's presence!" 

Vulpes is slow in pulling away from me and his eyes look tired as he turns to stare at the recruit. 

"Inform him that she will be there shortly," he dismisses the soldier. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploads will go back to being weekly. Thank you for being patient everyone!


	16. The Second Assignment

Again, Vulpes is alone, standing by himself, looking over at the water. My hands become fists as I wind away toward the officers' tent, toward Caesar. 

"My lord," the guard mutters. "The courier is here."

Caesar sighs as he dips his bread into a stew and pulls it out again. I watch the brown liquid drip into the bowl. 

"Nelson was a success, the profligates are dead and you have a new weapon on your hip. Perhaps Vulpes was right in chasing after you, but he's usually right." He tilts his head and stares up at me. "Vulpes has given you an assignment to check up on one of his informants. Will you do that?"

The laughing of the men distracts me. They seem so happy--rough soldiers smiling and joking with one another. But Caesar is still staring at me.

"Yes, sir. I'll complete the task." I lower my eyes, like I had seen the slaves do, but this earns me a grunt.

"Stop acting like that, there's no collar around your neck...now leave."

It's easy for me to flee places. I only gather myself and run away. Benny used to say he had to keep me to himself or else I'd be scooped right off the stage by another man. And then that blush would spread across my cheeks and I'd turn my face, giggle like a little girl as he kissed me.

My palm slides over the handle of Liberator and I turn toward one of the slaves. Her hair is short and her neck and wrists are flower beds, blooming fat purple petals. She averts her eyes when she sees me and hugs her load of dirty laundry closer to her. I want to ask her if I can have a bath prepared, but she seems so frightened by me. I stand for a moment, mouth open, then shake my head and turn away.

* * *

Another morning comes and when I push past the tent flaps, a tub is waiting for me outside.

"Courier," one of the slaves mutters. "We didn't want to disturb you while you slept."

They are pouring cloudy water into the metal tub and a fragrant smell of Broc flowers floats up to my nose.

"I didn't ask for a bath this morning." I'm not ungrateful, just surprised.

"The fo--Vulpes Inculta asked that this be prepared for you. We will bring it inside your tent, ma'am."

My fingers twitch and I reach for the edge of the tub.

But I take them back as the women began to push the tub along the sand into my tents. Their skinny arms shake and I turn away. I hug myself. They must envy me: a glutton, a free woman just because I survived being shot in the head.

They leave me alone in my tent, staring at the murky water. Broc flowers, beautiful Broc flowers--my hand dips into the water. I undress quickly, shedding my Legion red for the dirty warmth of the Mojave. The sand and dust washes off of me easily and I lower my head under the water, close my eyes, see how long I can stay under for.

I rise when my lungs begin screaming for oxygen. Water shakes out of the tub onto the sand and I come shaking out next.

* * *

"Are you leaving?" Vulpes asks me when I near the dock. He is dressed in his full armor, black goggles dangling from his neck.

I stare at him and try to capture what he's thinking. I touch my lips with the tips of my fingers. I nod.

"Are you prepared?" He picks his weapon from a nearby table and holsters it. He turns back to watch me.

"Yes. Where are you going?"

"I have a mission to complete. As we make more progress toward securing the Dam, I become more burdened with tasks." He pauses for a moment and motions behind me. "I believe the Cursor is ready for you to travel to Cottonwood Cove."

"Yes," I nod again and start to step away.

"María..." My brows furrow at his tone. "You work for the Legion. Distractions deter you from your goal. Do what you need, and leave. Understood?"

"Of course I understand. I'm not a child." I tell him as I edge onto the raft.

"I never said you were one," he responds. "Return in the morning, but for now..." he nods and gives a slight smile. "Until we meet again."

Lucullus begins paddling and I wipe my sweaty hands on my pants. Vulpes is already disappearing back into the Fort. I glance up at the Cursor. "When will he be leaving?"

"Soon, after we have reached the lower part of the river. Another Cursor will take him. There is no need to worry for Vulpes Inculta. He is the fox, he has his ways."

* * *

It's nighttime when I approach the gates to New Vegas once more. I can't look at the lights of the Tops without becoming nauseous. Without thinking of all that blood, my own tears blurring everything, making everything red, my head hurting so much. I wipe my hand over my face and stop myself from wanting to cry.

There are people roaming the streets and I ignore all of them until I enter the former Vault 21.

"Hi, can I--hey, I know you! You're that...you're Benny's girl! Oh gosh, I'm so sorry about what happened to him, that must have been so hard on you." I remember Sarah. I never liked her, but I talk to her now just so I can return to the Fort.

"Yeah," I tell her. "I need a room for the night. Away from the crowds, yeah?" I fake a tired smile. I'm trying, but I've never been good at lying.

"Of course, anything for a celebrity like yourself."

I give her stolen caps, caps I found lying on a dead man in the Mojave and she smiles like she could power lightbulbs by just showing her teeth.

I find my room quickly, set my things down on the bed, and change into the same red dress I wore last night. The last thing I want is to stand out. I leave and roam the corridors. I haven't ever actually been down here before, but to me, it's so cold and artificial. I cross my arms to keep myself warm, but they fling out to my sides as soon as I see three Omerta thugs questioning a woman. _The Omertas are crooked. Don't ever go in there, promise?_ The Omertas are people I've learned to hate because of Benny and the rest of the Chairmen.

"Hey," I yell to make myself known.

All three men and the woman turn their heads to stare at me. The one closest to me with a switchblade in his hand narrows his eyes, "This ain't no of your business."

I reach for Maria and the men start. They pull their weapons and I pull the trigger six times. They lie on the floor, bleeding from their heads and chests. One still groans, so I stand over him to fire a bullet into his skull. The woman runs away into her room.

"Wait, wait, I'm not going to hurt you!" I race after her before she can close the door to her apartment. "I'm trying to help you, Martina, I know the Omertas are after you because of who you are working for."

"I wouldn't work for the NCR if it wasn't the only way I could make money without prostituting!" She harshly says to me. Strands of hair fall from her bun as she moves rapidly around the small room.

My mouth opens and I stare at her. "The NCR?"

"I know, I know, they're no good, but they're the only chance I've got. Don't tell anyone, please." She waves her hands as she speaks, frightened. Her eyes are as wide as mine, but out of fear, not surprise.

I shake my head, half at her, half at what I've learned. "I won't."


	17. The Audience

My hands slide across the flat, cold surface of the vault walls. I could never imagine living in a vault. So constrained. The Mojave is my only home.

I reach the borrowed room again and lie flat on the bed. I've just killed three men and they are lying in the hallway bleeding like crushed fruit.  _That's the way New Vegas goes. Someone will pick him up._ I knew from Benny that the only way to pull out your weapon in New Vegas without getting shot by the Securitrons, was to have someone across from you pull theirs out first. 

I wonder what will happen to their bodies. I've seen the mongrels in the Legion fighting over meat that doesn't look like Brahmin and I've smelled burning flesh that seems to be coming from everywhere but no where all at once. They're going to be buried. 

I hear a shout from the hall and scuffling. Someone is taking the bodies to the surface. Funny how they were already underground. I let out a breathy laugh as I remember that this is the second time I've ever been underground. But this time, I'm alive. My body doesn't feel like it has blood weaving through it, but I'm alive.

I lie on the bed for what seems like half an hour, thinking of the stupidity of politics and how Vulpes will react when I return to the Fort. He praises me now and it's my job to accept. 

Then I hear a jukebox start up with a creaky instrumental. A crooner's smooth voice joins in and I turn my body to listen. My fingers lace with the blanket underneath me. My mouth opens, reciting lyrics I remember from time spent at the Tops. Benny tried to sing to me this song once. He was a terrible singer. 

I slip out of the bed and press my hands against the door frame, looking right, then left down the hall. I step out, walking toward the voice. My untied boot laces slap against my legs. I suddenly feel out of place as I enter the diner. The men and women around me are dressed in fancy, slightly dirty clothes and they cling to one another like desperate children. They don't seem to notice me as I slip through, toward the jukebox.

The instrumental quiets, the voice ends and I'm left feeling disappointed. The gamblers' voices are soft and full of alcohol and one of them eyes me. 

"Sing for us, baby?" 

My hands twitch. I haven't sung in the longest time. There's been no reason to, but now this man is staring at me, drunk, asking me to sing for him. He raises an eyebrow and I smile to reassure him.

"Sure," I say and I position myself in front of the quiet jukebox. Everyone's turned to look at me now and it's so different than being up on a stage. They're all waiting, so I begin a piano melody in my head and open my mouth. 

" _It's you, it's you, it's all for you, everything I do. Tell you all the time, 'heaven is a place on earth with you.' Tell me all the things you wanna do. I heard that you like the bad girls, honey, is that true? It's better than I ever even knew. They say that the world was built for two, only worth living if somebody is loving you. And baby, now you do._ " My eyes scan my audience, all blurry faces.

I think of Benny and how he used to watch me from his seat in the Aces, a martini in his hand, a smile on his face as his eyes touched mine. And then, after the applause and after I came off the stage, he'd grab my waist and ask if I had sung for him. I used to smile back then. Do I still smile now? I grinned at him and answered _of course._ I'm even singing for him now, or the memory of him, maybe.

The audience in the diner claps as my voice comes to a whisper. They are all smiles and compliments. I touch my face as I step away from them, thank yous floating behind me like the train of a dress.

* * *

_"You know, I don't know what you've got to be ashamed of. Everybody out there is practically falling out of their seats for you."  Benny downed the martini in one sip. I was still working on my own drink, fiddling with the small plastic sword that had once held the olive._

_"But I...sometimes..."_

_He lights a cigarette, my favorite thing to watch him do, and holds my hand. He breathes out smoke and it fills the space between us._

_"You ain't got nothin' to worry about, right, doll?"  He tugs on my hand, rubs his thumb across my skin._

_I look up at him, hopeful. When I'm with him, the music of the Tops is harder to hear, the gamblers' and Chairmen's figures seem non-existent. I open my mouth to let out an answer: "Right."_

_"If you're ever worried, just remember I'm here. I'll make your worries go to waste." He winks at me and I can't help but giggle. He isn't funny, but he always makes me smile. He stands, straightens out his jacket and holds out his arm for me to take. "Shall we?"_

_I laugh again and take his arm. The fabrics of all his suits are rough, but I don't mind. We walk out of the theater and no one seems to notice us, but I still feel like we're the king and queen._

* * *

 

The alarm on my pip-boy goes off and I struggle blindly with the knobs. It's barely six, but I need to wake early to be able to get back to the Fort before sunset. My eyelids still feel heavy, but I rise, place my bag on my back and exit the room.

I remember Vulpes standing there, telling me to hurry back. I remember drifting down the Colorado away from him, feeling so much younger than him. I remember the audience from last night; maybe I miss that life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics belong to "Video Games" by Lana Del Rey. Also, 800 reads! Thank you!


	18. The Burned Man

"You are back." Vulpes meets with me when I enter the Fort. He gives a slight grin and tilts his head. "Join me?" 

I take his outstretched hand in mine, but stop and begin to take off my bag, full of things the Legion bans. 

Vulpes shakes his head. "No matter. Come with me." 

We walk to his tent. I let the bag fall from my shoulders. There are boxes on the desk, marked with two-headed NCR bear stamps. He sits down in the chair beside the desk and begins opening the crates, taking unlabeled aluminum cans from their insides. I sit warily on his bed, toying with the leather of my armor. The sheets smell like him, even from here: the smell of a man, unlike anything else. He smells like everything pure from the earth.

He takes a knife from his table and stabs into the can with a sharp pop. The lid comes off and he turns to me, holding the opened can in his hand.

"What is that?" I ask, sliding from the bed. 

He holds it towards me, tilting it so that I can see inside: black olives floating in their murky water. 

I reach forward, take the can from him and fish out one with my finger. I haven't eaten these in years. Papá would go into California every month to trade wheat and cows for olives harvested by NCR farmers.

Vulpes begins speaking as I start to eat. "My people have smuggled those far out of NCR territory."

My eyes rise to look at him. He has a smile on his face, his body twisted in the chair. "For me?" I ask.

He laughs. "No, for the Legion. They are a delicacy. You may have some more if you wish."

There's a time of silence as he watches me eat, making my skin burn, but then he opens his mouth again.

"Will Ms. Groesbeck no longer be bothered by the Omertas?"

"She won't anymore. But she's working for the NCR." I stare at his face, wondering what his reaction will be, but he doesn't look surprised.

"No, she is not. She believes she is working for the profligate dogs." His eyes drift to the opening of the tent and then back to me. "Which reminds me, you have many more tasks that require your attention. One of which is important specifically to the weakening of the NCR."

"I understand," I mutter. I set the empty can down on the packed earth beneath me and lie back onto the bed. Vulpes has turned his face away from me, instead writing something on a piece of paper that sits on his desk. I lay listening to the scrape of pen on paper, but the silence becomes too much.

"What does your name mean? Sol told me you have something to do with foxes, is that true?"

"That boy..." he mutters, then clears his throat. "But yes, that is true. Why do you ask?"

"Who gave you that name?"

"A man."

"Caesar?"

"No, a man whose name I must not speak."

"Can you tell me about him?" I expect him to tell me no and to say that I'm acting like a child, asking too many questions.

"Caesar forbids us of speaking his true name, but the slaves and recruits call him The Burned Man. He was the first and former Legate: covered in pitch, lit on fire, and thrown into the canyon. He was a missionary, spreading the word of his god to the degenerates. Now, that is all I know. You should sleep, María."

He continues to write and my eyelids close. I turn over in his bed, letting my breathing slow. 

* * *

 

I dream of a man visiting me. He's on fire and his body is brighter than everything. I can't see his face or hear his voice, but he is here, falling.

And then Vulpes wakes me with a command, "Move." I turn over to see him shirtless, pushing me farther towards the edge of the bed. He looks tired--circles under his eyes, his expression heavy, everything heavy. I slide toward the edge, my face nearing to the red fabric of the tent.

The mattress shifts as he lays himself down beside me. He sighs and moves until he finds a comfortable position. I can tell he isn't facing me. 

I count a minute in my head and turn to face his back. Long scars mark his skin, some criss-crossing over others. They warp his pale body and as he breathes, they rise and fall too. These must be his wings or the aftermath of him losing them. 

My fingertips brush his skin, ghosting over a scar. His body stiffens and I pull back, breathing in like I'm about to be burned by a rising flame.

I wait for him to speak, and when he doesn't, I reach out again, trace a very long scar that begins at one shoulder and ends at the other. My hand collides with the bed sheets. Each healed wound earns my attention. 

"Why were you...flogged?" I ask.

"Punishment," he breathes out. "I have learned my lessons."

"And what about The Burned Man?" 

"What about him?" His breath is sharp as I bring my face to his skin, kiss his scars. He is something to be cherished. 

"What was he like, before he was burned?" 

"I am not the one you should be asking."

"Please, tell me." I open my mouth, trace the scars with my tongue, wait. 

"María...he was a righteous ruler. Caesar's second in command. All were afraid of crossing him, but then, at the first battle, he lead the centurions to their deaths. That was when Caesar had him burned."

"Was he beautiful, like you? What did he look like falling down that canyon?"

"I was not there at the battle. I do not understand what you mean by beautiful." He shakes his head. "You are tired. Stop asking questions." 

"Do you think he's still alive?" I pull away from his back and lay with my arms folded into my chest.

Vulpes doesn't answer--he's quiet, stiff and seems far away from me even though we're laying beside one another. 

* * *

 

Vulpes is dressing when I wake, slipping a dark red tunic over himself. 

"Good morning." He says. He eyes my dress from where I lay on the bed. "You should change into your armor."

"Why?" I rise onto my elbow and look at him. 

"I will be working with you today, helping you with your...combat skills. Caesar has asked me to oversee your development." He laces up each of his boots and straightens out his armor. 

"Do you think I need help defending myself?" I sit up straight in the bed. 

"Do not get angry. There is an important assignment that you must complete tonight. I am only helping to prepare you, yes?" 

I grab my bag from the foot of his bed and begin to leave.

"Where are you going?" He asks me. 

"To change," I state. 

He raises his brows. "Are you afraid of me seeing your body? I am not afraid of you seeing mine."

My cheeks warm. "I--I'll be back." I drop my head as I leave. 

The sun leaves a shadow near me, which I watch as I return to my tent. I slip the fabric and leather over myself and retrieve Liberator from my bag. 

It doesn't take me long to find Vulpes. He is at the back of the Fort, watching a recruit attack a dummy. 

When he sees me, he smirks and walks over to me. 

"You should be careful about carrying that around. The officers will think you are showing off," he gestures to the machete and looks me in the eyes. "Are you ready to begin your training?"

"Yes," I tell him, but my hands are sweating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://open.spotify.com/user/blue016/playlist/4Z1foqMEDMjxrlHco2rEA1
> 
> Here's the Hail Mary playlist on Spotify!


	19. The Monorail

My chest is heaving as I stare at the dirt, hands resting on my thighs.

"Your reaction time is too slow, a second can mean life or death in the Mojave. And not to mention, your ability to successfully use stealth is poor," Vulpes says from behind me.

I turn to see him taking off his gloves, flexing his hands. He does not seem worn-out like me. He catches my gaze.

"You are going back to New Vegas this afternoon, to Camp McCarran specifically. In the meantime..." he turns his head, noticing the men gathering around one of the meal tents. He turns back to me: "Eat. And after you are done, I will be waiting for you in Caesar's tent."

"What about you?" 

"I am not hungry, besides, I need to make arrangements for your visit." He smiles, gives a slight nod and turns his back on me. I feel uncomfortable going to eat by myself, without him or Sol at my side. The other men don't seem to notice me unless I make myself seen, but I feel more noticeable. 

Sol is stealing bread from an officer's plate when I go to get breakfast. He smiles at me, says hello, says he saw me coming out of Vulpes's tent this morning. 

"So, you two?" He makes a crude gesture with his hands and I feel my face begin to heat.

I shake my head rapidly, furrow my brows. "No, no, no of course not. I would never." I should stop lying; I know I'm not good at it. Especially when I'm the one I'm lying to.

He gives me an unconvinced grin. "Then what happened?" He swipes a large chunk of mutfruit next and offers it to me. 

"Thank you. We talked, that's all." The juice drips around my hand and I lick my skin like a child trying to catch it.

"About what?" He follows me as I search for an abandoned plate of food.

"About a man he says he once knew."

"Really? Who?" 

"He won't tell me his name, says they're not allowed to speak it. But they call him 'The Burned Man.'"

Sol snorts. We've found a empty space on the bench and we sit.

"What about 'The Burned Man?'" Sol always seems hungry.

"He was Caesar's second in command, but Vulpes says he lead legionaries to their deaths. As punishment, Caesar had him burned and thrown over the Grand Canyon."

Sol scoffs. "If he led them to their deaths, why was he second in command?"

There's a pause between us. Sol eyes me. "I don't know," I eventually tell him.

"Maybe they were lovers," Sol raises his brows at me as he pops a piece of fruit into his mouth. He rises from the bench, bows a little. "Adios, María. María Mariposa."

After he turns the corner around the weather station, I slip from the bench and leave toward Caesar's tent.

* * *

"It's been awhile since we've spoken, Courier. I know you've been occupied with other things." I almost expect him to gesture to Vulpes, but he continues speaking.

"One of Vulpes' Frumentarii is undercover as a NCR Captain at Camp McCaraan. He has been working for us for some time and has come up with a plan that will bring us even closer to seizing the Dam. This is where you come in. The instructions are simple: speak with 'Captain Curtis' and follow the instructions he gives you, that's it." 

I look up at Caesar from the floor of his tent. Once again, I've been brought to my knees by Vulpes' harsh voice.

"I'll leave immediately," I tell Caesar and I'm dismissed. 

Vulpes doesn't follow me, so I steal pouches of healing powder from the table in his tent. I run my finger over the grain and stare at the map laying there, revealing precious Legion secrets. Red marks are scratched over a crude drawing of Hoover Dam. Circles, lines, shapes cover entrances, towers, exits. I don't understand what Vulpes does when I am not here. 

I place the healing powders in my bag and ready myself for the raft. 

* * *

 The NCR aren't suspicious to see a traveler, but they're suspicious when I walk up to them and ask to enter.

"You a merc?"

"She certainly doesn't look like a mercenary..." the one mumbles to the other. 

"Yes, I'm just looking for work, maybe food." 

"Where'd you come from?" 

"Primm," I say, muttering the first place I can think of. 

"That's a long way," the younger soldier leans on his gun, picks food from between his teeth with his fingernail. 

"Yeah, I'd like to just relax." I give them a tired smile and the older one sighs, opens the gate for me.

"There's bounties if you're willing," he tells me as I pass and I nod. 

I've always seen McCaraan from the outside, it's sign, high walls, NCR passing around it, but inside, it's dark and quiet.

There are tents set up on the pavement and men and women standing in their sand-colored fatigues. I go to the first man I see.

"I'm looking for Captain Curtis. I have a message for him."

The man eyes me lazily. "You're a courier?"

"Yes."

"What are your affiliations?"

"What?

"I'm required to ask that to any visitors. You can't be sure nowadays, Legion's got dozens of spies running all over the place. Curtis is inside." He sighs, tilting his head toward the building.

I give my thanks and enter and am immediately struck with the feel of cold air on my skin. I can barely make out the slot machines in the dim light.

The soldiers don't even seem to be bothered by me as I wander the tile floors. They must see a lot of mercenaries.

I turn the corner, hands brushing the walls. My eyes rise at a voice. "Stop, no one past this point. No access to the monorail." Two NCR privates guard the doorway, guns pointed at me.

"I'm sorry," I say, my hands on either side of my head. "I'm only looking for Captain Curtis."

The woman points with her gun away from the door. "Over there."

The two of them watch me as I leave, as I step towards a door that's already opened. I peek around the corner and call out, "Captain Curtis?"

A man looks up from his some papers and I can see the recognition light up his face.

"Courier? María?" He almost whispers.

I nod and he rises from his chair. "Close the door," he says.

I do and he begins to speak. "I'm sure you've already been told what's going on, as I have." He glances at me.

"Well, I was only told to come see you."

"Fine. You have some rules you have to follow: go to the trashcan near the barracks and take everything, I repeat, everything in it. Go the monorail, put the explosive charge in the vent and leave. Then take the other useless items and place them in Davey Crenshaw's locker. I need you to do exactly this or there will be problems for the both of us."

"But the guards, at the monorail?"

"There's a shift change at nine..." he glances at the clock on his desk. "You should go now."

"How did you know it was me?"

"Vulpes Inculta informed me of you."

"But I could be working for the NCR and could tell them who you truly are."

"An NCR spy wouldn't reveal that information," he turns his back on me with a frown. My boots squeak on the tile as I leave.

I go over the instructions in my head. I've never set a bomb before in my life. Or maybe it's already set to go off once I place it in the monorail.

The farther I go into the building, the darker it seems to get until I'm standing in front of the beds lined up on the wall, side by side. There's a trash can in the corner and I go towards it, crouch in the dark, reach my hand inside.

Its empty except for a few things, which I don't even pause to look at. I stuff them in my bag and wander away from the barracks, toward the entrance. I'm trying to retrace my steps in the large building.

I spot the entrance, soldiers mumbling to each other as they watch me pass, three doorways, and finally the door with the two soldiers guarding it. I pretend to not see them and walk past, waiting for the two to leave. It seems to take hours, but finally, I hear one say: "Shift's over."

I slip around the corner as they do the same.

The doorknob is cold under my palm and an excitement unlike anything else bubbles into my throat. It doesn't fade as the warm wind pushes against me outside on the platform, and it even gets stronger as I enter the monorail, search for the vent. My hands work to unhinge it and I take the explosive out of my bag. I stare at it for a moment and then place it into the duct. The vent cover goes back on, I rise, and press the button to start the monorail before I step off.

I don't expect the explosion that follows, red and yellow billowing into the sky, reminiscent of what I think the bombs looked like during the Great War. The excitement is released with a breath and I exit the landing.


	20. The Praise

I suppress the feeling of anxiousness as I return to the Fort. I've completed my job, framed the soldier, did as I was told. Why am I worried? 

I'm able to travel through the Fort now with ease, watching the path ahead of me instead of the impression my boots make in the dirt. But the sight of the slaves still makes me avert my eyes.

The guard outside Caesar's tent raises the flap for me, as if I'm just another officer going to see my commander.

Vulpes, the man known as Lucius, and Caesar are speaking. Their voices turn to hushes as they see me approach.

"Well, well, she's back. And I expect that she's brought news, yes?"

My hands are dirty as I rub them on my pants. I nod and with the action, realize I'm tired. "The monorail is destroyed. The NCR has lost private access to New Vegas."

"Wonderful." Caesar leans back in his chair. "You have proved yourself useful, I think. But there are harder objectives for you to complete in the future."

"I know," I tell him. I don't expect him to give me much more praise than he already has. My eyes dart to Vulpes, standing by his Lord's side, arms clasped behind his back. He stares me in the face, head slightly tilted up.

"You may leave, Courier," Caesar says.

I bow my head and turn. I'm not surprised when I find Sol standing there outside the tent, holding his hand to his chest.

He smiles at me and sticks out his hand like a little kid. Blood gushes from a wound on the webbing between his thumb and forefinger.

A gasp bursts from my mouth and I immediately grab his hand, turn it round to check for more wounds.

"How did you get this? Why haven't you gotten this checked yet?"

"I don't think it's too bad," he shrugs. I take him by the arm and lead him to another tent.

"It is bad," I shake my head as I examine it. I don't have the skills to fix his wound. I glance p at him, brows furrowed.

He juts his chin in the direction behind me. "What about her?"

I turn and see a slave woman wrapping a yelling legionary's arm in fabric.

 "Yes, sir. I apologize," she tells him after he quiets down. He huffs, pulls his arm away, and walks off to the other end of the Fort.

I lean towards the woman, towards her table, Sol's hand still in my grasp. "Excuse me..."

She turns toward me, her mouth opened a little. "You're the Courier. You're the one Vulpes Inculta chases after. I've heard stories about you," she clears her throat after speaking and looks down. "I apologize. Are you injured?"

Am I that to the slaves? 'The one Vulpes Inculta chases after?' But maybe that is how the Legion has taught them to think. You're not anything if you aren't associated with a man.

"No. The boy," I slip my hand further down Sol's wrist so I have a good grasp on him as I tug him toward the woman. She stands behind a small table with healing powders resting on it. "He hurt his hand."

The woman looks at Sol and asks him to place his hand on the table. She pokes and prods at his skin until she finally glances up. "We need to clean this before it becomes infected."

Sol scoffs and looks at me, "I could have told her that."

"What did he say?" The woman asks, looking up from the bucket of water she is kneeling over.

"He said he appreciates it." I tell her.

"It's my duty, I must do it." The woman rises with a cup of water and a rag. "My name is Siri..." She tells me as she gently dabs at Sol's skin with the wet rag. She pours healing powder onto the fabric and cleans around the wound.

"Are you a doctor?" I ask, noticing the care she takes with Sol's wound.

She shakes her head, laughs a sad breath of air. "I was training to become a doctor, but the Legion wiped my town out before I could."

"And they took you as a slave? How long have you been one?"

"Three years now. I count the days in my head because they are the only things that bring me hope."

"Three years..." My brows knit and I stare at her. "Did you know the Burned Man?"

Siri looks up from her work for a moment and then back down. ''No, I came a year after he was killed. Or maybe I shouldn't even say killed. The more superstitious women says he seeks vengeance, that he still walks. I don't know if that's the truth. I heard he was a holy man or something like that, so maybe he can't die. But I'm not supposed to be talking about him anyways."

I watch as she works, wrapping and wrapping until Sol's hand is covered in a gauzy fabric. He steps away from her table and smiles. She attempts a smile back.

"Thank you," I say to her as Sol follows me back to the center of the Fort, near the arena.

"What were you telling her?" Sol asks. We stand outside the entrance to my tent.

"We were talking about the Burned Man."

Sol raises an eyebrow. "Why are you so interested in this man who most likely didn't survive?"

"But maybe he did. Caesar tried to kill him, but he wouldn't die. Normal people aren't like that."

His face screws up in a scowl. "Are you saying he's not human? Ugh, goodnight María, you are giving me a headache." Sol waves me away and I sigh, turning back to my tent. My tired hands work slow to undo the laces holding the flaps together.

"The Legion does not tolerate stealing." It's the first thing I hear when I pass the threshold.

Vulpes is sitting at the small desk, twirling a knife in his hand. I make out the lines of his face in the candle light.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, but I frown and shake my head. "It tolerates the invasion of privacy?"

The chair cuts grooves into the packed earth as he slides out and stands. He stabs the knife into the table and I turn away in fear of flinching in front of him.

It takes him a moment to start speaking again. He licks his lips and almost laughs. "If you want privacy, the Mojave offers that to you, but here, there is no privacy. Do you still have the healing powders?"

"One, yes." I start to walk to my bed, to reach for the bag lying under it, but he stops me with a hand on my arm. He pulls me towards him and I mold into his chest like I am not solid.

"I wanted to tell you: well done. You have accomplished your task without error. You are learning." He runs a hand over my head, petting my hair. I turn my head to breathe better on his shoulder. "I have missed your company." He takes his hand from my head and hoists my chin up. He tells me to look him in the eyes.

"Would you like to spend the night with me again?" He asks.

I stare up at him, the light smile on his face, the look in his eyes.

"The healing powder..." I murmur.

"Never mind that. There is always extra," he takes my hands and lets me leave the tent first, ahead of him. He isn't far behind me as I find the path to his tent.

 


	21. The Immaculate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1000 notes and 60 kudos, I can't believe it, thank you all so much! Slightly NSFW content ahead.

"How do you wish to celebrate your accomplishment?" He asks inside his tent. Light burns from the dying candles.

He's watching me like he expects to me leave, like he wants to catch me before I have the chance to get away. 

I swallow, my mouth dry. "What about wine?"

Vulpes smiles. "The Legion does not drink alcohol. There are things that are far more pleasurable than that." His eyes leave my face for a moment, search me up and down. There's a silence between us that could stretch the entire desert. His mouth opens an inch and he raises his chin slightly. 

"I have not felt your lips on mine in what feels like a century," he tells me. 

"Would you like to now?" My voice quiets. I was never like this with Benny. 

He steps toward me before I can touch him and presses his hand to my waist. I glance up at him. His heavy eyes are on me, gazing at the position of his hand, leaving it, moving back up, up. They land on my lips.

He's slow to meet his face with mine. I twist my head to make contact quicker. Acting rash has become the norm for me. I do not care anymore what he thinks.

Vulpes pushes his hand into the small of my back, the other is turning my head to deepen the kiss. One of my hands is trapped between our bodies, but he doesn't seem to mind. I'm pressed right against him, eyes shut. He leaves my lips for a breath, but doesn't speak.

My eyes slowly open, waiting for him to come back to me. 

He's staring at me. "Let me..." His fingertips touch the leather of my armor. And this time I let him. 

There's nothing more painful than the slow tug of his hands, untying and lifting the clothing from my body. He notices my breasts hidden under the fabric of my undergarments. He watches me as he kneels down and works at the buttons of the pants. He slides them down my legs, pauses to slip my boots from my feet and tugs the leather past my ankles. He doesn't even stand, merely observes me and presses his cheek to my stomach, holds me tight.

My hands wander to his hair, fingers running through it. If someone were to come in and see us, me, vulnerable without even being fully naked, I wouldn't know what to say.

Holding onto Vulpes's neck, I lower myself to the ground with him. I push my discarded clothes out of the way as Vulpes lowers himself upon me, straddling me. My back is against the packed earth of the floor.

He takes my hands in his and kisses the palms. He does the same with my feet. Lastly, a kiss on my side with his tongue. 

We're silent except for our breaths as we take off each other's clothes. Fabrics lay on the floor of his tent and I feel fine lying beside them. It's where I belong: in the dirt. 

Vulpes pulls my body towards his, up. Stares me in the eye as he pushes himself inside me. He grips my hand, tightening his grasp with every push. My body is already sweating. He surprised me, no foreplay, no warning, but I knew exactly where it would go.

I shut my eyes and let my gasps fill the space between us. I can feel his other hand grope my breast. 

He mumbles to me, "Look me in the eyes, María. Look at me."

My right hand blindly finds his face. "I can't," I tell him.

He doesn't respond and when I finally open my eyes, his are closed, his head down, mouth open. He bites the skin of my neck, murmuring words I don't understand.

It seems so long, so slow. I come before him, and he, after. We don't speak as I back myself into the metal bed frame and he stands. He cleans himself with his clothes and throws me the red fabric to do the same. 

It's different from Benny. There's no laughter, no smiles, no dim lights and soft sheets. It's almost out of necessity. I stand, legs shaking a bit and grab the armor that had been stuffed under the bed. 

"Do you have anything I can wear?" I ask. 

Vulpes is already searching his dresser and pulls out a white undershirt. He hands it to me and I suddenly feel exposed in front of him so I pull it over myself. I want to ask him if I did something wrong, but I can't. He's already ushering me over on his bed. 

We fall asleep the same way we did the other night, his back to me.

* * *

 

Vulpes is gone when I wake up. I find myself turning over, burying my face into the pillow beside me like a little girl. His smell is intoxicating. I lay in the bed until the heat from outside becomes unbearable and I change into my armor. 

I step out into the summer heat, hand over my brow to block out the sun. I think of Vulpes as I leave the area with the officers' tents. 

We barely spoke to each other last night. Maybe I wasn't what he expected, maybe I did the wrong things. The slaves are raped by soldiers everyday and that means most likely Vulpes has unwillingly dragged poor women to his bed. Maybe I'm just another way to release pent-up stress for him.

I shake my head, breathe, knowing I should be thinking of other things, like what's ahead.

Sol comes into view as I near the training recruits. He spots me quickly and leaves the dummy wobbling, coming up to me, shaking his head.   

"Now I know something is going on between the two of you," Sol wags his finger and points to where I came from. 

"Shouldn't you be with the other recruits?" I bypass him and begin to take the path toward my tent.

"And shouldn't you not be spending nights in your employer's tent?"

"My employer? I don't work for him. Stop following me." I'm almost to my tent, boots leaving harsh impressions in the soil as I make my way up.

"Of course, of course, I forgot. That's why you always follow him everywhere, yeah? But anyways, there was an important reason I wanted to talk to you."

"Make it quick, Sol." 

"The man, the one who was burned? I was thinking, if he can survive Caesar, can't anyone?"

"Have you spoken with Caesar, he really doesn't seem to be any sort of--"

"That is because you are always with your fox. But I've been out here, listening to the cries of the slaves, the tired gasps of pain from the soldiers as they wear their energy down. It's bad, María, don't you see it? Or are you just too blind?" He's waving his hands around, the curls of his hair bouncing.

I reach for the tent flap in front of me. My fingers brush the fabric as my hand falls. "I need...to just be alone right now." 

"Sol!" Someone shouts from behind him. I suppose the other men learned his name quickly. They yell at him in English, but he still understands their tone.                                   

"Think about it: isn't someone like this legend special?" Then he turns and races toward the other soldier.

I _am_ thinking about it. How part of me believes the Burned Man is real and the other part knows he may not even have existed. I groan and push my hair from my forehead. 


	22. The Deed

There's no time to rest. A praetorian guard appears, holding up the red fabric of my tent. He tells me Caesar wants to see me immediately. I nod to him, but he stays, waiting for me to exit. 

My hands shake as I follow him out into the Fort. What if Vulpes spoke to Caesar? What if I'm being given a punishment for sleeping with an officer? The questions keep me walking upright, eyes glancing around me. I play with my hands as the guard leads me to the tent. 

I'm even more anxious than the first time I came to see Caesar. He sits ahead of me, but his gaze isn't on me, it's on Vulpes as they speak to one another. I finally reach the adjoining tent where the two men are and Vulpes notices me first. There's nothing in his eyes, no familiar look, no compassion. It's like I'm just another recruit who happened to be in his line of sight. I kneel in front of Caesar and lower my head. 

Caesar scoffs, "Come on, how many times do I have to tell you? Look up here." I raise my eyes and furrow my brows. "Why do you look like you've killed one of my men?"

"I'm sorry. You wanted to see me?"

He leans back and presses his fingertips together. "I did. You've gotten us really far, Courier. You've done well. But of course, there are still steps we need to take to get a stronger hold around Hoover Dam and New Vegas. You've met Mr. House, haven't you?"

I nod. I feel uncomfortable with my knee pushing into the hard earth. I wish he would let me stand.

"Well, you're going to be meeting him for the final time this afternoon. You're going to kill him, understand?" 

I nod again and turn my head to look at Vulpes. He gazes back at me and I know he can see the questions turning in my head. He raises his brows at me, looking so much more superior than me with his crossed arms. 

"I know about your..." Caesar waves his hands around, searching for the right word. "...obsession with Vulpes Inculta. And I've taken into consideration that he could, let's say, motivate you. So, Vulpes will take you to New Vegas and lead you back after you have done your task. He won't help you kill House, though."

I try not to look worried and mutter my understanding. Then I rise, pushing myself up from the ground. 

"Vulpes will meet with you when you're ready," Caesar says, and I'm dismissed. 

I don't see Sol anywhere when I leave the tent. Not that I'm waiting for him, it's just unusual. 

I wring my hands and head for the footlocker that holds my weapons. I keep it locked underneath my bed. Maria, Liberator, a large pocketful of 9mm bullets, and the left-over healing powder from yesterday are laid on my sheets. 

My armor smells like sex and sweat and so does my body. I exit my tent for a moment, searching. A slave catches my eye and I step towards her. She acknowledges me with a frightened look and her body physically moving away from me. From what I've seen, if I was a Legion soldier, she would have earned a beating. 

"I'm sorry. I--all I ask is for a bath, yes?" I want to reach for her, but she's so enclosed into her own self.

Her large eyes relax a little and she nods, moving away from me and down the path.  

I don't feel bad, even though I know I should as I retreat to my tent and sit down at the small desk. 

My hand goes to my forehead. It won't be a moral problem killing House. I never knew much about him, besides Benny's ranting. Apparently, the man, who none of the tribes had ever seen, had given them their livelihood. But now, it didn't matter because New Vegas was falling apart anyways.

I feel tired as I sit there, not knowing what to do with myself, but then, a small voice interrupts me. 

"Ma'am?" I look up to see a slave girl standing at the open entrance to my tent. 

I've only been called ma'am once or twice in my life.

"Your bath is ready, ma'am."

"Thank you," I tell her. She joins her companion, the girl from before, outside, and they push it into my tent. 

I stand after they have left and tie the tent flaps together. Every time I bathe, it's an escape from the dry Fort, from the baking heat of the Mojave, from Vulpes, Sol, the soldiers around me. As Vulpes has said, I could just leave, that would be true escape, true freedom that others just don't get. I can't leave anymore now of course, I'm already committed. I will win New Vegas for the Legion, for Vulpes Inculta. 

I take careful time washing myself: the dirt, smell, sweat out of my pores and into the water. The men always look like they don't bathe. Their hair is greasy and there's always some amount of grime on their faces. 

After I'm done, washing myself and the dirty leather armor, the same girls from before take the tub and pull it out of my tent.

The armor takes long to dry, but I know I shouldn't have washed it. It feels rough in my hands and too dry to help me protect myself. I slip into it anyways and shove Maria into its holster. Liberator goes on my other hip. I hang the healing powder from my belt, placing the ammunition into the same pouch.

Maybe I can take more healing powders from Siri, I tell myself as I leave.

Vulpes is standing to the right of my tent, somewhat away from it. He doesn't uncross his arms when he sees me. His armor looks dull and dirty and he carries a bag on his back. 

"Are you prepared?" He asks and hands me four more pouches of healing powder. 

"Yes, I am." I take them and tie the strings to the belt beside the other. I look up quickly, mouth open, but I shut it after a moment of staring. "We should start for New Vegas now."

He starts toward the drawbridge without saying a word and only turns around to make sure I'm following.  

We immediately board the raft and Vulpes greets Lucullus. There's uncomfortable silence as I stand near the edge of the raft and look into the water, watching my wavering reflection.  

* * *

 

Vulpes and I step down in Cottonwood Cove after spending an hour in silence moving down the river. I adjust the weapons on my hips, waiting for him to start walking. 

The men there greet him but soon go back to their work as the two of us make our way up the hill, out into the Mojave. 

"Did I do something?" I ask him once we are alone. He looks at me sideways, his brows raised. 

"What do you mean?" He pulls at his gloves. 

"Last night, you seemed irritated with me."

"I apologize, I did not mean to appear that way. It...has been a long time since I have been with a free woman."

I feel nauseous when I think of him pushing himself onto someone who doesn't want him and I don't know how to respond.

My pace increases as I climb over the rocks. 

"You are lovely," Vulpes tells me. "And you were lovely last night. I did not have the chance to tell you." 

I tighten my grasp on a rock and pull myself up. "You didn't seem to think that this morning. You barely looked at me."

"Business and the personal life must be separated. I know you have never had to worry about that." 

It's an underhanded comment, but I ignore it. "You confuse me." 

A breath of a laugh from him, but he doesn't speak.

* * *

 

It takes us a whole night, including breaks, to reach New Vegas. Vulpes had already changed once we left Legion territory. He stood in the pale light and dressed into the suit I had seen him in the first time I went to see Mr. House. I bit my lip as I watched him. Over the trip, he had given me details: there would be several Securitrons guarding him, he believed. But he wasn't sure how to gain access to House, the real House, not the monitor, but whatever the man was. 

Now we trek through Freeside. Vulpes glances at me and the lights shine in his blue eyes. 

"You must kill him alone. I'll be waiting in Freeside if anything happens." He tells me. 

"I know." I respond. We reach the gates to New Vegas and I look at him. 

"Are you expecting me to say something?"

"I--I'm sorry. I'll be back." I shake my head and turn away, heading for Vegas at a brisk pace.

I feel as if the Securitions are all watching me, searching for my next motive. My boots slap against the metal walkway up to the Lucky 38 doors. Victor, the cowboy Securitron, isn't standing near the entrance to the casino and I pulled the door open for myself and entered. 

The two robots near the elevator immediately begin shooting at me and I roll to duck behind the check-in counter. Hastily grabbing Maria from its holster, I push myself up just a bit to hit the screens of the robots. It's a workout, moving in and out of cover, aiming the best I can, but I finally see the two fall, one after another. I run up the steps into the elevator, smashing the button to the penthouse. 

It doesn't take me long to reach the floor where the giant monitor of Houses is, but as soon as the doors open, all the robots on the steps turn to me and begin firing. I crouch into the corner of the elevator and reload Maria. I don't like them being this close to me and walk blocks my way out of the elevator. I scramble away from lasers, but one hits me in the calf, searing the leather and burning my skin.

I hiss and pour my bullets into the center of the Securitrons. I fly out of the elevator and down the stairs. The robots chase after me, firing, and I try to avoid them as I run towards a terminal on the wall, past House. 

"What are you doing? No, don't touch that!" House shouts from behind me as my hands move all over the terminal, looking for any access to unlock it. And finally, a slot big enough for the Chip. I slide it out of my pocket and into the slot just as the Securitrons catch up to me.

A wall slides away and I rush in, snatching the Chip and shutting the wall closed before the robots can reach me. I'm alone in a dark room, a walkway ahead of me. I pace myself as I walk down, getting closer to a terminal. 

My eyes track the commands appearing on the screen. One opens the chamber twenty feet away. I press 'ok' and wait for the chamber to open. 

Some kind of smoke appears as the chamber disengages and I step towards it. There, laying shriveled and sick, is a man. 

His voice cracks as he speaks and his breath is barely there. "So, you think you've accomplished something?" 

He looks almost like a ghoul, skeletal and gray. I stare into his dead eyes. "No, it's only a task, something I have to do." 

"And so you..." he takes a heavy breath and rolls his head to look at me. "...gave up a once in a lifetime chance."

"I'm sorry," I tell him. "I'm sorry." I slide Maria from my hip and aim at his head. My eyes shut as he groans at me to close him back in his chamber. 

I pull the trigger and don't raise my head to look at the mess. 

I've done it, taken the Legion one step closer to victory and I don't feel as guilty as I thought I would. I just want to leave New Vegas because I don't care what happens in the days before the Legion wins, before one side resumes control over the city. 

I open the sliding wall again, noticing that the gathering Securitrons have moved away, farther into the penthouse floor. 

Maria is still in my hand as I crouch and start toward the stairs. A robot is wheeling toward me as I ascend and I aim and fire, alerting the others that I'm there. Ten bullets and the large metal robot clanks against the floor. But others are shooting at me as I scurry towards the elevator. 

The same leg as before is hit multiple times as the elevator doors slide open. I scream as the red pain bursts through my nerves. I lean against the railings inside and hit the button once again, my hands shaking as my breathing bounces and I investigate the wound. 

" _Mierda_ ," I mutter, dirty fingers poking at the seared flesh. "Fuck, this hurts. Fuck." I can't help the tears that start in the corner of my eyes. I'm alone in the elevator, wincing as it lowers to the casino floor. 

I try to stand, but it hurts just to put weight on it. And I can't walk in the Mojave like this, dirt and sand would collect in the wound.

"I need help," I tell myself, hopping out onto the casino floor, my hand grasping the railing. I hiss with every bounce my body makes, sweat and tears staining my face. 

Without the railing, it's more difficult, but I manage to burst through the doors and out into the street. The robots are already reading out House's obituary and no one seems to notice that I came from the Lucky 38, or that my leg is red and burnt. 

I almost fall on the tarmac and am about to collapse before I clutch the gates like they're my savior. I push them open and spot Vulpes off the side. His eyes find me, the pain in my face, and my bent leg. I'm pleading him to come to me with the look in my eyes, still holding onto the metal of the gates. 

He begins to walk towards me, past the Securitrons who ignore him, and grabs me under my arms. Vulpes lifts me up and into his grasp, against his chest.

I feel like a child, contained. His thumb brushes the wound and I wince, lean into him. He starts walking with my face in his shoulder and my arms around his neck. 


	23. The Sermon

Vulpes carries me into an abandoned house outside of New Vegas and lays me on the bed in the darkness. My body twists and turns, skin rubbing against the naked mattress as I groan and cry out. 

His cold hand touches my leg. He uses the other to grab my arm, steadying me. "Enough," he tells me, trying to flatten my body against the bed. 

My gaze catches his stern one, blue eyes lit up by the moonlight streaming from the window. I reach up to touch his face, calming myself, relaxing my body. His grip slides from my arm to my waist and he unties the bag of healing powder from my belt.

"Calm. Nothing is going to happen to you." He fumbles into his bag and pulls a carton of purified water out. The lid is untwisted and before I know it, he's pouring it out onto my skin. It surprises me, stinging slightly. 

His wets his fingers with the water and pushes them into the pouch, his skin coming back covered in the green healing powder. 

I watch him as he takes his hand and gently presses it to my leg. It hurts like hell at first. The granules that didn't dissolve rub against the already stinging flesh and I bite my lip, turn my head to stop myself from crying out. 

"All legionaries must learn to treat minor wounds themselves before their training is complete. A life is not worth a scratch from a deepstalker." Vulpes talks, his mouth moving against my thumb.

I nod, just to let him know that I'm listening as he finishes and tears the pouch that once contained the healing powder. I look down and notice that the fabric barely ties around my leg. 

He shakes his head, rises. "This will have to work." And then his eyes drift up to mine. He's standing at the foot of the mattress in the half-darkness and I am lying there, weak and vulnerable. I want to touch him. 

He leans over me and grips my hand, dragging his fingers down the palm to the Pip-Boy on my wrist. He examines the screen, eyes searching for something. He finally sighs and stands straight.

"Sleep. Tomorrow, we will check your wound and see if you are fit for travel. Caesar is expecting us as you know." He loosens the tie around his neck. There's no reprimanding this time, no _foolish girl, if you were trained properly there would not be a problem_ and I'm grateful for the lack of it. 

He seems frustrated and seats himself in a chair across from me, fingers running over his lips. 

"Vulpes," I call, swallowing. His eyes immediately rise. "Thank you." 

"For what? The bandage? I need to get you back to the Fort. It is a necessity. Now, close your eyes." 

"Will you lay here with me?" I ask him, voice light. I don't feel warm in the bed alone and my arms ache to hold something. My arms ache to hold him. 

"The mattress is too small. Besides, if the Securitrons come looking for the woman that killed House, I will make sure they do not touch you." He seems distracted, out of it. He looks around the room, at the decaying walls and furniture, and sighs again. 

I turn to look at the ceiling with its bland cream-colored pattern. "Why don't you like talking about your past?" I ask. 

"My life before the Legion does not matter, if that is what you are referring to. And my life before becoming Leader of the Frumentarii was merely a stepping stone. What of you, though? I only know about your...dealings with the Chairmen, but before that?"

Before that, life was simpler and blander. All colors in my life were browns and dark reds and tans. And then New Vegas? Yellows, pinks, greens, everything bright and bold. I wonder how I adjusted so fast. 

"I was born South of here, an only child. My mother and father farmed and lived in a house beside four other farmhouses. I was raised to be a farmer, I have the hands of a farmer. I don't know how Benny ever loved me." I turn my head to the wall, breathe out. My mouth is full of spit that clings to my lips as I begin talking again. "And then I left my family because I wanted to be a singer. I remember the first time I ever put on makeup was in the backstage at the Tops. I came out on that stage dressed like a whore, or somewhere near it, and all the white men had their eyes on me. Even Benny. Especially Benny." 

Vulpes doesn't say anything for a while and I think he must of fell asleep until he starts speaking. "What about your family?" 

I'm quick to respond. "I don't want to talk about them. Tell me about your family. That will be when I tell you about mine." 

He's silent again. I hear his breathing, far away gunshots, and the wind through the thin walls of the house. I don't turn back to look at him, instead I shut my eyes and bury my hands into my chest. This silence is the closest I'll ever get to praying.

* * *

In the morning, Vulpes does not wake me up. I push myself up on my hands after rolling over, and find him asleep beside me. He wakes shortly after and we eat breakfast from the bag that he brought. He was more prepared than I was.

He takes me over the rocks and cliffs, avoiding the main roads and the wide open desert. We only encounter a few mole rats, which don't pose a challenge us. He doesn't seem to want to talk with me, and we increase toward Cottonwood Cove in silence. I imagine this is how he leads his Frumentarii. He stops me to speak with a Decanus, who introduces himself to me as Severus. The two exchange NCR dogtags and caps. Vulpes thanks him and hands me the caps. "They are no use to me," he says already walking to the raft.

I examine the caps in my hands, bented and rusted, probably taken from slaves' pockets. They seem dirty, and not just from the Mojave. Vulpes speaks to the Cursor in whispers as we all stand on the raft.

I make out some. There's something about the Great Khans, a gang from Red Rock Canyon that were massacred by the NCR several years back. And something about the White Gloves. They're the ones who eat people; why would the Legion want anything to do with them? I notice my reflection in the water, distorted from the ripples created by the oar. I look exactly the same as when I saw myself in Goodsprings: a small mouth, scars, two brown-almost-black eyes. But my face is a little cleaner, and my hair a little longer.

The mens' conversations end as we approach the metal gate of the Fort. I get off first, anxious to be back. Anxious to be in the only home I seem to have now. The men don't look up anymore as I pass. Their eyes are elsewhere: on their work, the slaves, the sky. I pass over the drawbridge, farther into the interior. As I draw close, I notice a circle of soldiers surrounding a boy on a crate.

"The Burned Man..." It's Sol, his English poor and heavily clouded by his accent, but the men around him are enthralled. "He is alive. Like you, me. He survived."

Someone in the audience shouts, "He wants revenge!" Others around him agree. 

Sol's eyes look around him, wide and bewildered. He spots me and his smile widens. "María!" His listeners all turn to stare at me. They are watching me, waiting for me to say something.

"I--I don't know if what Sol is talking about is true. I was not there, I did not see what happened. I don't know what to tell you," I try, and wait for them to turn their focus back on Sol.

"Who? Who was there?" He takes several seconds to get the syllables out of his mouth and they end up broken as they fall on the ears of the Legionnaires. None of them raise their hands, all looking up at him. I wish he would get down from there.

"Enough!" I hear a voice, coming from my right. All of us turn, as if we must. Caesar stands before his tent. Lucius on one side of him, another praetorian guard flanking the other. "That is enough. And you," he sets his gaze on me. "Isn't that one your responsibility?"

I don't say a word. My head drops and I push through the crowd, reaching for Sol. He glances at me incredulously, but after a moment, he lets me pull him by his hands, down to the sand. All eyes are on the two of us: Caesar's, the guards, the soldiers.

I look over my shoulder as more of the Legionnaires approach. And now Vulpes's eyes.


	24. The Assumption

We flee, Sol and I. I rush him through the crowd of soldiers and down the hill to my tent. I leave the flaps open because of the heat and turn on him once the both of us are inside.

"What were doing up there like that?" I want to scream at him, or something like that. He scowls at me, crossing his arms and looking away from me. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and finally opens his mouth. 

"I was telling them what they should know." He stares at the covers of my bed. He takes a moment to begin speaking again. "This Burned Man, whoever he is, doesn't he inspire you?" I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows, takes a breath, and finally address me with his eyes. 

I shake my head at him. "How would he inspire me? By surviving a fall from a canyon and burns on his body?" 

"Yes, exactly. He _is_ out for revenge. Revenge on Caesar, on the Legion. And a man who can overcome death, isn't that someone to be afraid of because of his strength, his power. I wish to be like him--to survive all the blows in the world from a machete...to survive the Legion."

"Yes, that's something we all want to accomplish." 

He laughs, rolling his eyes and looking at me accusingly. "You sound like that man of yours. It's absolutely disgusting."

A frown comes onto my face as I look at him. "Stop. Just listen, for once. Open your ears and close your mouth." His nostrils flare as he breathes out angrily. "All I want is to protect you. If you're going to be telling soldiers things that Caesar doesn't want them to hear, you'll be punished for it. That's the last thing I want to happen to you."

He rapidly shakes his head and scoffs, throws his hands up in the air like a boy, and leaves. I take a long breath, one I feel enter my body and leave it again. I walk towards my bed and lay down. My eyes seem to close of their accord. Maybe I'm exhausted.

"Caesar requests your presence." I open my heavy eyes. Between my eyelashes, a soldier stands at the entrance, blocking the sunlight that desperately wants to enter.

It takes a moment to process his words, but when they register, I stand and apologize. "Yes, right away." My whole body feels sluggish as I rush to the large tent in the middle of the Fort, past the space were Sol stood minutes ago, now deserted, with only the box sitting in the dirt.  My visits to Caesar's tent are becoming more frequent. He is sitting in his chair as always, Vulpes on one side, a guard on the other. He sighs when he sees me and leans back in his chair. One of his hands rubs his forehead. 

"Listen, Courier, what I say to you does not leave here, got it?" He looks bored, tired eyes watching me. 

I kneel and nod up at him.

"The Burned Man is dead, okay? He was a missionary once, helped me found this Legion of mine, and was once my second in command. And then he led a whole group of veterans to their deaths at the hands of the NCR and I could not stand idly by and observe. Heavy consequences for a mistake like that. So..." he sighs, flips his hand in the air. "Well, I'm sure the slaves or whoever have told you the story."

My eyes briefly glance up at Vulpes, but he doesn't seem to be paying attention to Caesar's remarks.

"It's time for you to teach that boy to stop speaking about it, spewing lies like that." Caesar continues, pointing his finger at me. He breathes and turns his head to the side. "But that victory in New Vegas, killing House, I mean--that's a fucking win for us, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir," I tell him. 

He laughs for a reason I don't understand and tells me to go back to my tent. I retreat and exit. The sun is getting lower in the sky and the clouds above the Fort are turning orange. 

The bed welcomes me with its soft mattress and rough, but warm covers. I rub my hand over them and realize that they need to be washed. But that'll wait for tomorrow. Now my eyelids are falling and my body feels heavy. My wounded leg scrapes against the bedframe and I wince, but I'm too tired to do much else. The heat seems to want me to close my eyes and ignore the sounds outside, so I listen to it, turning on my side.

* * *

 I wake to the sound of men laughing and the smell of cooking meat. My stomach aches from lack of food since morning and I swing my legs over the bed, still dressed in armor and boots. I push aside one of the curtains and peer out. Five men are gathered around a campfire to the left of me, one is standing up and using his hands to dramatize a story he is telling. Didn't Vulpes say the Legion doesn't drink alcohol? I squint my eyes and go out into the night. I don't want to sit with the officers or the recruits, but the hunger makes me slide my hand to my stomach and walk towards the big, crimson dining tent. 

"I was wondering when you would be awake." 

I turn towards the voice and find Vulpes carrying two metal dishes of food. He doesn't smile or grin, but he gestures with his head to the entrance of my tent. He lets me go first and I stand uncertain in the center, watching as he enters and sets the plates on the desk. He folds his arms over his chest and watches me watching the plates. 

He says it after I expect him to say it. "If you are hungry, eat." With his permission, I wander toward the desk and take the plate closest to me, sit down, and begin eating. The grease on my fingers from the brahmin steak reminds me of home, nights in the warm kitchen, Papá still worried about Raiders when we're having dinner. The memory makes me shake my head, but stop as Vulpes reaches for the second plate and starts speaking. He moves around the small space and I hear a chair's legs drag in dirt. He places the chair beside me and eats along with me.

"How is your leg?" He asks. There is disinterest in his voice, but I still respond without question.

"Fine, I'll have to go to Siri soon to have it wrapped. I've just forgotten about it." I had forgotten about it. The pain had quickly become just another thing I had to deal with.

He seems taken aback by my willingness to talk like we are old friends, but continues speaking. 

"I know you have only just gotten back, but the Legion requires your assistance with negotiations."

Those words make my head rise and my fingers drop the meat back on the plate. I swallow, "Negotiations? You already know I don't know how to convince or persuade anyone."

He eats calmly and looks at me with narrow eyes that give away nothing. "If you require assistance, you can always come to me."

"But why me? What about you?" I frown and stare up at him.

"I am not the one who made that decision," he tells me. 

I shut my eyes and sigh. "When will I have to leave again?" I ask.

"Soon, but not tonight. And what is this? You miss the Fort?"

"No, but it is the only place I can go back to."

"If you wish." I can hear the shrug in his voice. "And the boy..." he laughs. "Are you his mother now? Taking care of him, making sure he does not make anymore mistakes? You concern yourself too much with him."

"Caesar has made him my responsibility."

"No, _you_ have made him your responsibility." He points at my food. "It will get cold." Cold like him, but different all the same. He is the cool nights of the Mojave to me, without the purple of the sky. He is only blue and ice and things that are hard. The red of his armor doesn't even match the color of his lips: light pink. We finish our plates in silence and he finally turns to me fully, eyebrows furrowed. "We were alone and I had all the opportunities I could have wished for, and still, I did not act on them."

I open my mouth, "What do you mean?" 

"Let me have your hands," he tells me and I give them to him. He pulls me out of my seat and asks me to sit on his lap. He runs his hands up my thighs to my waist and looks me in the eyes. "All that time. I could have taken you in the desert if I had wished, but I did not. I did not because of who you are. Pure, beautiful..." his hand slides up my side to my face, his fingers brushing my lips, just over the space between them, threatening to enter. "Mine. My María and only mine."

I lean towards him, into him, onto him. I immediately want to defeat the emptiness that holds our bodies away from each other. His hand is still holding my face when I kiss him and he turns to let me deepen the kiss. My own fingertips trace his jaw as his tongue enters my mouth. He pulls away for a moment, slowly, and I can feel the saliva on my lips. I'm already untying the laces of the armor he wears, and he reciprocates, working on sliding the tight leather down to my knees. 

"I beg of you, _fac ut ardeat cor meum_ ," he breathes into my ear. And then he lets me take the red fabric that ends at his thighs and slide it up his body, over his head, taking the armor with it. It thuds to the ground. Impatient, insistent, my breath shuddering, I touch the cool skin of his chest, but he takes my hands away. Without a word, he watches me shed the brown pants, the leather armor of the shirt, then brings me back to him. 

His fingers leave me naked, pushing my underwear to the dirt and hoisting the tank top above my head and letting it fall once it reaches my outstretched hands. Our skin touches and there is nothing more beautiful and magnificent than it. Once I leave him unclothed, we cannot part, neither of us can leave.

We seem to make to love for hours, slow and methodical, and this time I watch his eyes, how they shut, and his mouth, how it opens to let breaths of air out. And in the end, I fall atop of him, chin digging into his shoulder, hands holding him still, cold sweat sticking us to one another. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fac ut ardeat cor meum--pretty much translates to "make my heart burn"


	25. The Thorns

I want a cigarette or a shot of whiskey. My tongue is dry and the heat inside the tent is just starting to set in. My feet touch the sand and I grip the edge of the bed. I am alone. My clothing is hung over the railing of the bed frame; Vulpes must have put it there before he left. Instead of picking them up, I leave the bed and open my footlocker, taking out one of my dresses. I slip on another pair of underclothes from the footlocker and then the dress and step into my boots.

Parting the entrance of the tent, I finally greet the outside. The men are training, young boys are running laps, the slaves are breaking their backs like brahmin, and I am here, selfish and pathetic. The Legion is war and I am not war. I will never fit that. I shut my eyes and drift away from the tents to where I know I'll find Sol. 

He sits on a box, face still and eyes wide. His hands hold a cup of water. Another recruit approaches him with a smile on his face and kicks the box, laughs. 

"Come on, the new slave girls have arrived. Or do you still not understand because you're dissolute?" The recruit laughs again and tries to grab Sol who springs up and pushes him back. The cup clatters to the ground and the water turns the sand dark. The other boy is stunned, teetering on his feet a little.

 _"¡Dejamé en páz!"_ Sol screams and shrugs him away. The boy leaves, stunned, as I walk towards Sol.

After yesterday, I feel like he is upset with me. I kneel down to look at him and hold his hands. They are rough and warm and dirty: boy's hands. 

"Are you alright?" I ask him. 

He grunts and turns away out of my grip. There's a sadness in his face I can't describe--he wants so bad to speak, but he holds it in and furrows his brows. 

"Please, what's wrong? If you're thinking of yesterday...that was...please don't be upset with me."

He sets his chin in his hand and shakes his head. "I'm not, I don't care about that."

"Then what's going on?" I reach for him and he immediately backs away. I frown deeply and stare at him, but he doesn't move. I stretch my hand toward him again and grab the collar of his shirt. I pull him towards me and he hisses and winces in pain, scrambling back and looking pained.

Worry spills from me and I stand, coming around the side of the box to examine him. He still sits crumpled and wounded. And there, there it is, racing from under his shirt: a bloody line. My jaw clenches.

"Who did that?" I ask. 

He looks at the ground. "I don't know who it was."

My hands become fists and I stiffen. A harsh breath goes in and comes out. "Did Caesar order it?

"I think so."

"Tell me what happened." 

"They told me I must be punished for yesterday, and that the others would watch to learn the lesson of following Caesar's word. And then...they stripped me of my clothes and tied me to a post."

And I was asleep when it happened. "Let's go back." I help him to his feet. 

"Back where?" 

"To my tent. I'll make sure no one will bother you." The other soldiers briefly watch as I take him back up the hill. I don't pay much attention to them. Sol and I enter and I immediately realize we're not alone. 

"Your next assignment is very important. Only a few more steps and the Legion will be fighting and winning at the Battle of Hoover Dam." Vulpes is all business as he sets papers on the desk and stands with his hands behind his back. I'm not surprised he entered uninvited. He glances at Sol, and then at me.

Gingerly, I approach the desk and pick up the papers, which are crinkled and old. They're reports and information about several factions. The White Glove Society, the Brotherhood of Steel, and the Boomers. I've only been around one on the Strip. Benny always told me to stay away from them. I fold the papers back up and look at Vulpes. The urgency of Sol comes to my mind, but what good will it do? Maybe just speaking will feel like I'm accomplishing something.

"Sol was flogged this morning," I mutter.

"He was." Vulpes's response is simple. It's what I expect from him. 

"Why? He shouldn't have been. I was sleeping, someone should have woken me up. Did Caesar order it?"

"You have to understand," he arranges the papers as if to keep his hands busy. "There is a loyalty in the Legion that cannot be disobeyed. It is simple. Sol spoke of someone who Legionaries are not allowed to speak of. As a recruit, he falls under harsher rules."

"But he doesn't know. He didn't know. He's a boy."

Vulpes shakes his head, but there's something unsaid in the motion. He sighs. "Healing powder and water will make the wounds heal faster."

I take one last look at him and gently tug Sol by the arm with him. Siri, who patched up his hand, which seems to be healing, must have powders. She stands in her usual spot, head down, working with a pestle and mortar to powder down the Xander Root and Broc flowers. She looks up when I arrive with Sol behind me. 

"Oh, it's you." Her eyes drift to Sol and his pained expression. Without saying a word, she reaches down and slips a large pouch of healing powder over the table. "Since you're a friend of the Legion." A pause. "Don't let him get into any more trouble." 

I nod a promise and take Sol once again with me back to the tent. Vulpes has left, to my relief, and I turn to Sol in the dim light. 

"Take off your shirt."

"What?" He asks, surprised. 

"I need to clean your back." A frown has settled on my face and I keep it until Sol casts the fabric aside and stands in front of me, slightly hunched. I take a stool and have him sit in it. "I need to get water for you," I tell him quietly and leave him alone, shirtless and innocent. 

The slaves carry water from the base of the Fort to the hill with the tents everyday, up and down, taking buckets back and forth. I spot one coming back from the river and ask for the bucket. She complies, after a while of staring at me with wide eyes and backing away. Finally. I carry the water back to my tent and set it on the floor. Sol is looking at the ground when I came in, his hands holding him up in the stool. He's been defeated, I can tell by his posture. I dip a rag from the footlocker into the bucket and stand behind the stool. I wipe slowly, gently across his back and place my hand on his shoulder to steady him. I hear his small gasps of pain and grimace myself.

"I'm sorry." I tell him. There's a silence between us as I work. He moves a little as if he's uncomfortable in the stool.

"I never belonged here," he mumbles. I brush his hair with my hand. I want to tell him I understand and feel the same way, but he's already continued speaking. "They took me from my tribe and I remember kicking and fighting and then being dragged through the desert to here. It seemed like years and my mouth never seemed to not feel dry, no matter how much water they gave me." He breathes something like a laugh. "...and do you know why I said I had no name? Because I hadn't earned my name yet. I hadn't fought and defeated another of my tribe, like I was supposed to."

I stop rubbing the powder into his back. "So what did they call you?"

"'The boy.' I'll always be 'the boy.' But maybe it doesn't matter now because they burned my tribe to the ground as they dragged me away." I swallow and drop my head. I can't imagine.

I finish cleaning his back and let him wrangle back into his shirt. His brown eyes stare at me across the tent and he opens his mouth. "You don't know how happy I was when you came up to me and started speaking in Spanish. Thank you, María." 

He leaves before I can tell him that I'm always there for him. I feel empty and exhausted, but I turn to the papers on my desk and examine them.

 

 


	26. The Girl

"You and your boy are always getting hurt," Siri mumbles as she bandages my leg. I sit in a chair in my tent as she works, careful fingers running across my skin. 

"He's...not my son." 

"I know he isn't. But you certainly care for him." I do, she's right. And after this morning, I need to watch over him. From the chair I reach for the papers. I have already looked at them several times, but I keep coming back to them. I chose the second one, the one that details the Brotherhood of Steel. There is something about a self-destruct code and a bunker, but Siri stands and tells me she is done. 

"It'd be better if you didn't scrape it against anything. It may cause it to bleed and that's not what we want." She tells me, brushing her hands off. 

I nod and thank her and turn back to the papers, sliding the chair under the desk. I mark the one about the Brotherhood and run a hand through my hair. The soldiers must be eating dinner now--I exit the tent and walk toward the fires above on the hill. I find Vulpes easily, facing me on the other side of the table. He acknowledges me with a nod of his head. I sit, move aside the plate in front of me and lay out the papers. 

"I've decided to deal with the Brotherhood of Steel first," I inform him, pointing at the pages. He sips his water and looks over the pages as well. 

"Are you leaving tonight?" He asks. "Hidden Valley, the location of the bunker, is North of Cottonwood Cove. But besides, you need to visit the 188 Trading Post first."

I furrow my brows. "Why? Are there two bunkers?" 

"No, there is a dissolute woman there who will grant you access to the bunker. With her at your side, the Brotherhood will feel more compelled to trust you. Of course, you will need to get her to follow you." Of course, I think. Instead of infiltrating the bunker and destroying it from the inside, I'll have to make friends with some woman.

Irritated, I clench my fist and stare at the pages. "I'm leaving tomorrow, but I need to get my things ready tonight." 

He rises from the seat. "I'll help you." And then, "Have you eaten?" 

I grab a bit of fried yucca from his plate and turn away. We walk back beside each other and I listen to his advice.

* * *

 In the morning, Vulpes wakes me early and watches me eat and dress.

"There are three cards to enable the self-destruct mechanism. One will be taken from the elder, one from the lead scribe, and one from the lead paladin. They will most likely identify themselves for you if you are confused," he says. He hands me Maria from the footlocker and several pouches of healing powder he must have gotten before I woke up. I place my weapons in their respective holsters and turn to him. The papers are hidden away at the bottom of my bag and so are containers of purified water. I hope he can see my determination. 

"Wait," I hear him mutter before I can leave. "I will inform Caesar of your departure, but first, come here." I step over to him and he reaches down and hands me something. A handkerchief. "This is for you to wear."

"Why?"

"If any of them survive, they will not know who to search for. Your face will be hidden." He extends his hand up to touch my neck and smiles. "Your hair has gotten longer."

"Do I still look like a slave?" I edge closer to him.

"No."

"Then what do I look like?"

He brings our foreheads together and mutters, "A warrior, María." He nudges my face with his nose and places a kiss on my lips. "Good luck." And then he lets me leave. 

I adjust my armor as the raft drifts down the river. Lucullus is silent as always, but briefly commends me on my willingness to help the Legion. I work on transferring the pages of notes to my Pip-Boy. The Legionnaires still marvel at the computer. 

Soon, I am in Cottonwood Cove and heading North from there, moving at a steady pace as I listen to the radio like I used to when I was younger. My hands become rough from climbing the cliffs by the time was getting lower into the sky. I had left the last traces of Legion territory and shuffled along the Highway. Barely a mile away, a proud NCR flag stood on a bridge. Figures were walking around and a few fires burned. I tied the handkerchief around my neck just in case, and continued toward it, all the while searching for a girl who "looked out of place," in Vulpes's words. 

And there she was, standing beside a small food cart, picking at her nails. It looks almost like she's waiting for someone. I walk towards her and the food cart and order squirrel soup. I thank the man and step a little closer to the girl, opening my mouth to speak and holding the soup out in her direction.

"Here," I tell her. "You look like you need this."

To my surprise, she starts laughing and shakes her head. "What? Does my face look sunken or something?" 

I pull the bowl back and step back. "No, I was just trying to be...friendly."

She smiles. "Seems like you've been away from people for a long time. Ooh, are you an explorer?" 

"I am." This is going better than I thought it would. 

"I'm Veronica, by the way. I'd love to see the rest of the Mojave, but my family won't exactly let me leave."

"María," I shake her outstretched hand, the one without the power fist, and cross my arms. "That's a shame. Why not?"

"Well, I'm not really supposed to leave the general area of our...house. I can't go too far, I'm only supposed to be picking up groceries and heading back home."

"Why you? Can't someone else go?"

She briefly lowers her hood and runs a hand through her hair. Then, she looks at me sideways. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes," I whisper. No, I can't.

"My family live underground."

"Underground?" I try my hand at feigning surprise.

"Yeah, in a bunker. It's my job to bring back food and stuff for them, but lately, I just want to leave this place and go look around. Maybe finally use this," she motions to her power fist, "on something other than geckos."

I shift my weight to my other hip and use my hands to exaggerate my words. "Why not come with me? We could explore together."

"Really?" Her face lights up. "You seem like you know what you're doing, just let me get my things." I down the soup as I watch her scramble for her bag and assortment of wrenches and computer parts. She finally straightens and tells me she's ready to go. 

She asks me questions as we walk through the desert. How old am I? Where am I from? I say from New Vegas. She finds that surprising and asks why I'm so dirty then. I tell her I've been away from there for a while. And then she asks what I think of the Brotherhood of Steel. I don't turn around and watch her expression as she follows me, instead, I just answer. 

"I don't know much about them, so I don't really have an opinion on them."

"Oh, okay," she whispers and is silent until we near Hidden Valley at just past dusk. She starts again, her voice small this time. "You know why I asked you that earlier?"

"No, I don't."

"I'm Brotherhood and I wanted to see if I'd be alright around you first, you know."

"It's fine." And then my eyes rise as behind the gates, a sandstorm starts up and then quiets. Lurking figures appear at the other side of the valley, leaving it.

"Cool, huh? Elder McNamara set that up to do that."

"Oh?" But she's already racing into the Valley, hood bobbing. I follow ahead, matching her pace.

She enters the bunker and runs over to an intercom and presses her face close to it. She mumbles something that sounds like a food order and the man on the other side angrily grumbles. 

The doors slide open and my eyes widen. Several people stand in heavy metal armor I've seen in old Pre-War advertisements with large rifles in their hands. One of them, a man without a helmet on, gestures to me with the butt of his gun. 

"Who's this friend of yours, Veronica?"

"Oh, her?" She smiles. "She's María and she's an explorer."

I smile and nod, just for the sake of it.


	27. The Escape

"We're not supposed to have people inside here. But you're already through the doors, aren't you?" The man narrows his eyes. "Who are you with?"

"What?" I watch the people behind him carefully, all of them are staring in my direction.

"NCR? Caesar's Legion? No, you can't be Legion, you're a woman."

My back straightens and I shake my head. "I'm not affiliated with anyone." The man observes me further and finally shrugs. 

"You should follow Veronica. She knows the way around here like a map." He turns to her. "Take her to see the Elder."

The girl nods and gestures for me to follow. They all have their eyes on me as I walk with her into the first hallway. 

The bunker's unnaturally cold, like Vault 21, except the heat from others' bodies keeps you warm in there. There are so many soldiers walking about, but soon, the number diminishes. I look at Veronica. She steps along and greets the people as they exit the main hallway. The conversation is usually the same: a sarcastic response from them with a smile to lighten the tone and a sarcastic remark from her. 

"Where are they all going?" I ask, watching a man disappear into a doorway.

"To sleep," she says with a little smirk on her face. "I guess explorers don't sleep, huh?"

I shake my head and follow her to a round door.

"The Elder's in there," she continues. "Maybe you'll be the one to help us. We haven't been doing so well." I eye her, but she only smiles back at me. It's like she's leading me right where I need to be. 

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair and tell her I'll go to see her elder. This causes a grin from her as she walks forward and the doors slide open. Behind a round desk sits a man with white hair and a distressed look on his face. Upon seeing Veronica he shakes his head, but stops when he notices me beside her. 

"So, you're the stranger Veronica brought in? We don't...outsiders aren't something we see."

"I understand," I say. "I shouldn't be here. But Veronica said you needed help?" I turn my head to the side slightly, opening myself for requests.

He brings his hands together and intertwines his fingers. "Yes, we do have some things that need to be dealt with. But you're a guest. It _is_ getting late." I swallow the spit in my mouth and I raise my eyebrows. I feel like I've been outplayed in a game I didn't know I was playing.

"Thank you. Will Veronica show me to my room?"

"She will," he mutters. "In the morning, we'll discuss how you can help us." 

Veronica stays the room after I leave, busying herself with talking to the elder at his desk. My lips form into a straight line as I pass the guards. They are a problem. I scan my surroundings after the door slides shut. Hallways and dark corners, a small stairway leading down under the floor. I can see several people walking underneath. There are turrets too, but those won't activate unless I shoot first. Maria's not going leave my hip, I know that. There is a passage leading east and I step down it carefully. Dozens of computers fill the room and some men and women in red robes file around, hands busy and eyes wandering. 

"Sorry about that," a sudden voice interrupts me and I turn to face Veronica. She places a hand on my back and guides me into a doorway where several beds lie. "We usually keep the sick here when they just need to rest, but we wash the sheets, so don't worry." She laughs a little, but I can't manage a smile. I thank her and pick the bed closest to the door.

After I know she has left, I dig into my bag, finding the banned items from the Fort on top. Buffout, Jet, drugs I had picked up when scavenging. And finally what I've been looking for this whole time: a heavy Stealth Boy that feels awkward in my hands. The Frumentarii may be skilled enough not to use this, but my finger itches over the button to activate it. I glance at the papers for the last time and rise from the bed. I check the hallway, make sure my handkerchief won't come off, and wait for the time to slowly switch to eleven on my Pip-Boy. 

I support myself against the wall, press the button and push myself to the door, the Stealth-Boy attached to my belt. I let my breathing slow into a quiet whisper, even though my heart is beating rapidly. My hands skim the walls and my eyes suddenly flit up to see a guard standing at the end of the hallway. She yawns and I leave the wall, heading to the other side in the darkness. There's the open passage way leading into the computer room and I turn my body towards it. One of the red-clad women asks a man if her shift is up, but I don't care to listen to his response. He is the one I'm after. He moves rapidly between the columns and finally stops at one of the terminals. I scurry to him, stopping in the shadows when one of the scientists passes by. My fingertips touch the fabric of his robe lightly, as if it is fragile, and I slip them in the pocket, careful not to make contact with his body. The card, no bigger than my palm, is mine now, and goes into my pocket. The men and women continue to move around as I exit and head for the door where I know the elder is. 

I inch closer to the entrance, but stop. The only way to enter is to wait for someone to pass through. I bite my lip and clench my fists. The guard at the corner seems anxious and finally lifts herself from the spot, enters, and converses with the two stationed at the door. I hurry in, shuffling in my crouched position. 

My eyes rapidly search for a way to find the elder, who no longer occupies the desk, and I notice a lightly lit hallway off to the side. I make my way around the desk and am finally in the hallway. My hands shake.

Two doors on either sides. One must contain the elder; I try the open door in front of me, containing a man in armor with his back to me. I hear him sigh and he runs his gloved hands through his hair. He turns suddenly to the side, as if hearing me, and I slowly slip back into the wall. He comes to the doorway and move farther away. The man looks around for a moment and then returns to his room. I wait until I hear the shift of the cot and pass into the room. My fingertips linger over the handle of his dresser as I quickly glance at him. Very slowly, I pull the drawer out and find miscellaneous things I couldn't care less about. And then I snatch a slim card as big as my palm from a pile a papers. I don't bother to close the drawer as I slip the card into my pocket and crouch down against the cold floor.

I cross the hallway and enter the opposite door. It slides open and my heart stops. The guards have noticed, their helmet-covered faces turned in my direction. Hurry, I tell myself and enter the room. Standing, I hover over the Elder's sleeping form as the door shuts behind me. I can feel sweat started to bead on my forehead. He is still wearing his robe, but is turned on his side, facing me. I reach for his pocket and my fingers gingerly search for the card. It's there by itself, a slim piece of plastic; I can finally breathe properly again. 

The two guards are alert and still looking around themselves when I exit. One hits the other, tells them to go check out what's going on. I can feel the Stealth Boy wearing off. My feet pick up from the ground and I scramble back the way I came. The guards yell as I pass them: Hey, wait! Stand down! The computers, the paper was talking about the computers. I turn on my heels and back into the room. I weave through the columns until I end up in the next room where odd-looking pods are stationed. Everyone has already seen me and is looking around, unsure of what to do. My palms slide over the terminals, looking for slots for the cards until I find one. I push the cards in, hurrying. The password generates, as I was told it would, and I move to the next terminal, repeating the word in my head. One of the men in robes, the one I stole the card from comes toward me.

"What are you doing? Take your hands off of there," he shouts at me and tugs at my wrists. Damn it, fuck. I speed through the commands and the 'are you sure' option until I can finally enter the password. The man has already said he's calling for guards and my heart is thumping loud in my ears. I press enter and a siren starts up. Some of the scientists flee, some have weapons, but I sprint towards the exit and into the passageway. There are even more of them out here, red lasers criss-crossing as they fire at me. I want to laugh almost. I've never had this many people fire at me. 

I launch myself at the doorway of my temporary bedroom and swing my bag over my shoulder. My eyes flit across the hall as I move down it. They spot a ladder, and directly above it, an air vent. The turrets have finally caught on and shoot laser after laser into the ladder. The stench of burnt rubber finds to my nose and I feel heat in the heel of my foot. Ignoring it, I push with my hands at the hard metal. It doesn't budge. Using my bag as a shield, I pull Maria from it and fire three times, arms awkwardly bent to protect my face. The damaged metal breaks under the force of my hands and I push up and out. My feet kick and knock over the ladder to buy me time to escape. The fresh Mojave air hits me like cold water, but I have no time to admire it. I pull my body up with my arms and begin to run, towards the moon. 


	28. The Welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long everyone!

My chest expands in a breath as I step from the raft into the Fort. Time seems almost lacking here, the sun and sky obscured by ever-present clouds. No one notices as I approach Caesar's tent and enter. I am still trying to slow my breathing from the journey but it wavers when I notice the empty chair. Lucius stands promptly by, watching Vulpes in the adjoining area. They both look at me when my boots shuffle against the carpet. Vulpes stands from his leaning position and raises his eyebrows: _what do you have to report?_ I can hear the question in my head. My eyes flit from Lucius, to the chair, and finally back to Vulpes. He nods suddenly and extends his hand from his body, pushing me along with it as he passes. He tells Lucius he will be back soon. 

Far from the tent, he asks, "Well, have you failed?" 

My jaw clenches at the question and I quickly shake my head. There is no expression of amusement on his face. He waits for me. "No, I did not."

He doesn't speak for a moment, then simply nods. "Good. Your nervousness led me to believe that you needed to report your failure."

I begin to walk slowly and he follows without a word, beside me. "I was just...where is Caesar?"

"So that was what you were worried about. He is ill. You may come to me, for now, until he has recovered."

"What's wrong with him?" 

He clicks his tongue and turns his head slightly to examine me. "If I was anyone else you would have earned yourself a beating."

I bristle and almost stop moving my feet, but shake my head and scoff. "I am supposed to be happy for that?"

"I would. Back to the topic at hand, though. Caesar has been having intermittent headaches. Siri, the slave you often speak with, has been tending to him."

"Are you worried about what will happen to him?" I stop and look him in the eye. A cool breeze from the river blows several short strands of my hair back. 

"Partially, but I think: what will become of the Legion if he dies? More so, _when_ he dies." A slight smile is on his face, from what, I don't know, but it makes me furrow my brows. 

"Isn't he immortal? Isn't that what the Legion thinks?" 

His nostrils flare slightly. "Caesar is not, neither am I, neither was the Burned Man. Even you, María."

The mention of the Burned Man churns my stomach and leaves my eyes searching for Sol when I know I won't find him here. "I know what I am. But won't Lucius lead?"

Vulpes waves his hand and leaves his still pose, turning back to finish the lap around the Fort. "He is old."

"What about you?" I watch the excitement in his eyes burn as I speak those words.

He shows his white teeth. "I have Lanius to compete with." And he looks at me and nods. "Yes, I know you do not understand who he is. He is the Legate. His name means 'butcher' and he will crush and destroy anything that comes into his path."

"You don't like him." 

He sighs and swipes his thumb over his brow. "I did not say that. There are just...many things we do not agree upon. If he were to rule, the Legion would crumple under his hunger for power. But that is enough. Come, let's plan." 

* * *

Vulpes spreads a map before us on his desk and points to a spot north of the Fort labeled 'Boomers.'

"They are a tribe of people with hundreds of weapons at their disposal and are definitely a threat to the Legion. I have sent several scouts over the past months and all have been killed before making even making entry into the base."

I look at him, open-mouthed, from my spot beside him. "So this is a suicide mission?"

He shakes his head and runs his finger along an area beside the base. "There is a path along the fence where they will not aim at you. A scout gained the information from a man along the road into the base before killing him." 

I shake my head. I don't want to go in there if they're going to try to kill me on sight. He acknowledges the stress in my face and places a hand on my bent back. 

"Three days, María. I will give you three days and by the time those are up, Caesar should be out of bed. And you will be setting out to take care of the Boomers." He seems to be smiling with his blue eyes as his hands leave my back and he tells me he must return to Lucius. I drop my head into my hands and think about the events of the previous days. My thoughts wander to the Brotherhood girl at the NCR Outpost. I haven't even thought of her until now. How she's probably dead like the others and didn't deserve it. I rise from the desk and grab a book at random from Vulpes's shelf, leaving his tent and turning back toward the recruits' area.

* * *

Sol drops his gaze when he sees me, stuffing food into his mouth. 

"Come with me, please." I mumble, but he only buries himself deeper into his food and shakes his head. And then I notice, the soldier standing at the end of the dining hall, eyes trained on the scene. I touch the back of his head and smile slightly. "Those guards wouldn't dare say anything to me. Will you follow me now?" 

He looks up, "Why?" 

"I just want to spend time with you. And read to you." I glance down at the book cover. Something by someone named Shakespeare. It's in English and I push the thought of translating to the back of my mind as Sol gingerly stands. 

"I'm not a little kid, you know." The soldier doesn't move, but stares at us. 

"I know," I say, and take his hand, leading him up the hill.


	29. The Sabbath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry I've been gone for so long. School negatively impacts this fic and my motivation lol. But anyways, I hope you enjoy and I can't believe it's been almost a YEAR since I first posted "Hail Mary."

Sol sits and stares at me. His blank expression makes me upset with myself, but I shake the thoughts away quickly and open the book. I'm surprised to see small, tight handwriting in the margins. I can make out the notes about the characters and part of me wants to laugh. I can't imagine Vulpes enjoying anything that doesn't involve destruction. 

It's a play, I realize, and I stumble through the heavy, old English monologues, trying to translate them to something more modern. Sol seems disinterested, his chin in his hand, his eyes only half open. I shut the book and put it aside. 

"I have three days before I leave for the base up north," I tell him, leaning forward on the chair, elbows on my knees. "I want to spend those three days with you, like I said." He shakes his head before I can open my mouth again. 

"You're blind," he mumbles. "I want to leave, but I can't. I'm stuck here just like the slaves and I'd rather be out in the Mojave fending for myself. Don't you want that too? Or is  _he_ keeping you here? I was blind too, at first, but this," he gestures to his shoulder. "This made me realize how terrible this place really is." 

He's right. I know it. There's so much truth and I have been so blind, casting aside all the wrongs of the Legion and masking them with the image of Vulpes. I frown at Sol and he looks up at me. I clench my jaw before I can speak: "This place is terrible..." But it's not what I really want to say, it's dumb and childish.

"I was thinking of escaping," he continues. "I know I said I can't leave, but if I'm just smart enough--"

"Don't," I shake my head rapidly. "Don't. I don't want to see you in pain, but it's much better than seeing you strung up to some telephone pole."

He seems shocked, but doesn't move or say a single word. He clears his throat and a small smile dons his lips. "I've been gathering information about the Burned Man." His tan fingers reach into the fabric of his shirt and he pulls out a small notebook. Maybe he made it himself, because the Legion would never supply him with something like that. I take it as he hands it to me. I feel a sudden fear wash over me.

"You need to keep this hidden, understand?" I hold up the notebook. Nothing can deter his imagination and his wonder, not even the leather of whips. 

He nods, "I know, trust me María, I know. Now look at it. I have written down everything I have discovered about him. Some slaves have tried to talk to me, they seem to pity me and I can barely understand them, but I try to, and I write down the pieces I know. They say he was a bad man, a very bad man and I asked if he was like Caesar and one said 'no.' They said he was different and that he was intelligent. _'Muy inteligente'_   that same one said, and I wanted to laugh at their pronunciation."

"Hold on," I was only half listening as I read through the notes in quick handwriting. He had written about the Burned Man's physical appearance--tall with wide shoulders, always dressed in unusual garb, a permanent scowl on his face. 

He's obsessed with a myth. I close the notebook and get the urge to stretch, and the urge to be alone. "I don't know what to say..."

Sol carefully takes the book back from me and conceals it once more. "I've been thinking though, that the only way to freedom must be to have Caesar throw you over the Grand Canyon. There seems to be no other way."

I move in the chair. "I don't think the Burned Man is free though, he is still trapped in this image, still trapped in what Caesar has made him--" There's a sound outside and Sol stands and tells me he has to return to training.

"You don't tell _him_ about our talks, do you?" He asks before he leaves. 

I shake my head. "Of course not."

"I just thought," his eyebrows turn inward and upward. His hair bounces. "Never mind." Never mind, I think along with him as he leaves without turning and finishing his sentence. I pull the large map from my bag and spread it out in front of me, trying to mark the areas as I have seen Vulpes do. The thought of him propels my mind into other contemplations. When I picture Vulpes in my mind I see a beautiful man with flaws that are outweighed by his words, his smirks, his glances. Everything he does is painful for me, he drags me back to the only place that I feel is my home, when it shouldn't feel like my home because it is flawed like him, but much uglier. 

I draw heavy red lines on the map and stare at the images blankly until I hear the heavy fabric swish and Vulpes appears in the light. He looks tired, about as tired as I am, and I rise from the chair to stand across from him. 

"Are you alright?" I pick at my fingernails. His hand finds the bedframe and he steps forward and lays down on the bed--all very slowly.

"Yes," he answers and he turns his back to me. 

"Are you hungry? Have the others eaten yet?" 

He inhales and lets out a breath and tells me to go to the mess tent. 

I leave immediately, stepping through the sand towards the tent. My hands reach for meat, bread, and yucca and fill two plates with them. I imagine Vulpes sitting at the table, a candle lit, his eyes scanning the map I wrote on. What can I do? What can I say to him when I come back? Sol entrusts me with our secrets, but my tongue still feels stuck to the roof of my mouth, wanting to move and let me speak. I go back slowly, hoping that Vulpes will stop me when I get inside and admonish me for taking his book and then kiss me on the lips because he loves me. I enter the dark, quiet tent and find him on the bed still. His chest lifts and falls methodically and his eyes are closed, so I set the food onto the table and sit down to eat. I bite my lip in contemplation. Right now, I am imagining my body flying into the air, whole when it was on the ground, but bits and pieces in the sky. This scares me more than anything. There's always the White Gloves to tend to, in safe, bright New Vegas. I grip my hair in one hand. 


	30. The Sky

On the second day, God created the sky. On the second day, I made the bed which Vulpes and I had slept on. He slept through the night, but only after I had undressed him and laid beside him. We were in our underclothes and my body was pressed directly against his warm back. My mind was full last night and so was my stomach.

I awake before Vulpes for the first time and step out of bed anxiously, my feet padding into the flat earth. The map is in a cylinder on the table, but I don’t bother to look at it. The heat of another’s body has still not left me and I stand for what seems a long time over my footlocker, not wanting to dress.

The mattress shifts and a breath enters the silence as I see the stirring of a body under the thin sheets.

“María,” he calls my name, the first thing out of his mouth besides a sigh. I come back to him, unclothed, and I find him staring at the bruise on my abdomen, the one I hadn’t noticed until the morning. I touch it gingerly, then my eyes return to his face. He’s sitting up, his hands pushing him forward and there are wrinkles of skin in his flat stomach. Darker circles and even gaunter cheeks accentuate his face. I hope he kisses me good morning.

He beckons me as if I have entered his domain and plants a kiss onto my lips. This one sign of affection has completed me. I kiss him back, holding the sides of his face in my hands, my thumbs caressing his cheeks, and we part, like a married couple, who have gotten so used to kisses that only foreplay means anything anymore.

His food from last night sits towards the back of the table, cold, and I take it outside to feed the dogs. We are dressed in simple muslin tunics and the air is still cool and crisp from the lack of the sun. There are few soldiers around.

Vulpes asks me if I slept well, and I nod, feeding the mongrels and drawing my hand back quickly before they can bite me. He laughs in my ear, warm breaths, and the hairs on my arms rise. It’s all very sudden and I don’t want it to stop, but as I return the plate to the mess tent and walk back to my own tent, I open my mouth.

“Are you alright?” I question for the second time. I want to hold something in my hands and I play with the fabric just above my hips.

"Why would I not be?" It's something I expected him to say.

"You're acting different...than you usually act." 

"And how do I usually act?"

You are never this kind to me, I want to say, but that would reveal the truth to him, and he doesn't like the truth. I shake my head and savor the moment to take his hand in mine. He sits me on his lap and this is truly a day of rest as he whispers that he knows about his stolen book and tilts my head back to kiss my neck.

* * *

We do not end up undressing and he leaves soon after. I dress into my armor and grab my bag full of provisions and weapons, making sure to place the map with them. The tent and the Fort feel constricting.

I ask the Cursor for permission to leave and he shrugs, saying that is up to Caesar. But then his gaze turns back to me and he is reminded that his Lord is ill and guides me to the raft. I have to ask permission to come and go as I please and Vulpes says I am not trapped.

The Mojave has been missing me and the last time I was there, I did not do it justice. I look down the river, towards where I know the Cove will appear in an hour. The sun is in the middle of the sky, leaking out behind clouds with hazy hues of gold. I finger the Mark that is still around my neck as we travel further on. 

* * *

It is midday when I reach the Cove and the hottest it has felt since I have been with the Legion. I buy food from a Decanus with my dented bottle caps and he stares me up and down. 

"A lone venture?" He asks.

I nod and suck on my fingers, already steaming and sullied by the hot vegetable he hands me. He nods back in response and I wander farther on, over the cliffs and into the desert. I breathe a sigh, steady and calm and follow the path of the road. I feel like a traveler again, the girl who walked all the way to New Vegas only to have...

I shake my head. I can't think of that now. Not of Vulpes, not of Benny, who I haven't thought of in a long time, and not of New Vegas. Several geckos come running down the mountains once they see me, but one of the Legion's men raises his gun before I can. I look at him. He looks at me. I look up at the sky and then at the telephone poles that invade my sight: makeshift crucifixes with skeletons hanging from them. I turn my back to them and head North, suddenly wanting to dip my hands into the sand. Sol has skin the color of sand, but each day he tans in the sun.

I have become tanner too, I realize, staring at my worn hands. And they are worn again, no longer soothed with lotion from who-knows-where, no longer caressed by hands that killed unceremoniously. Now they are caressed in ceremony. 

Being alone helps me contemplate and I run my hands over the very real bag they hold. I feel like I want to kill and kill in a way that would make Vulpes smile. 

It's not long before I find a gas station and push the door open with my foot. There is silence and the thick smell of urine wafts up from the tile. My eyes scour the surroundings, finding once-full rows of food, a small ice box, and a counter with a register. I head to the register first and open it, savoring the chiming sound that it makes. But then I hear the swish of clothing and the clink of metal and a rough voice behind me shouts to turn around. 

My hand slides to Maria as my feet move and I face the voice, arm outstretched with a weapon at the end of it. Three Raiders are hunched behind one of the rows, faces dirtied and eyes red. Legion roads are known for being clear of raider groups, so I aim the pistol at the middle Raider's head. 

"Drop the weapon," he says, gesturing with his own gun. "And give us the bag, or we'll shoot your kneecaps and drag you out into the desert." 

I fire the first shot, only half thinking, and the Raider's head is thrown back. He's dead. The other two crouch down and I jump over the counter, using it as cover. I land beside a pouch of caps and shove it into my bag. I hear a shot fire and I duck further down. Maybe they will come for me around the corner and I'll be able to shoot them in the stomach, instead of having to raise my head up from the edge of the counter and fire. I raise my hand above my head, feel with my fingertips where the edge is, and turn around slowly. My knuckles rub against the edge of the countertop and I know that the barrel of Maria is pointing in the Raiders' general direction. I pull the trigger, hear a grunt and the squeak of boots and know I've hit my target before they were able to duck down. I fire again, but this time hear the bullet hit something metal.

I stand from my crouch, suddenly, but the Raiders are under cover. I lick my dry lips, wait. One of them stands, I fire. He falls. I hear a muttered curse and a ruffling of clothing and I jump over the counter again, increasing on the rows, knowing exactly where to go.  I find a woman behind the row and she stares up at me with frightened eyes, and I almost feel bad until she brings her hand up, fingers around a knife. I kick her fist, push her to the ground. She knocks Maria from my hand and I hear the metal flick across the tile of the little store. I grab her wrist and squeeze and she's grunting and her teeth are barred, but I get the knife out of her hand and push it into her soft chest. She screams, she bleeds, and I stand. I take the heel of my boot and push the hilt of the knife down further into her skin. 

My eyes won't leave her for awhile, as I watch her bleed. I take the knife and let her dry out like a butchered brahmin. Gunshots fire in the distance and they almost sound like applause. I turn my head to the door quickly, making sure I'm alone. 


	31. The Base

I grab Maria from the ground and search through the clothing of the Raiders. My fingers come back bloody, but holding ammo, pills, food, weapons. I stuff everything I need in my bag and rise, returning to the counter to grab the pre-war money. It's not worth much anymore, but I had a habit of collecting it when I was younger. I slip the bag over my shoulder and go out into the desert once again. It is still as hot as it was before. I shield my eyes against the sunlight and go off to the road; the pavement is steaming, it seems, and father on, what look like fumes are wavering above the asphalt. I tune through the radio stations on my Pip-Boy before choosing the "Mojave Music Radio." I don't have the ear for Sinatra today. A lazy guitar riff starts and I mark the Air Base on my map, where I had previously placed everything: Hidden Valley, the Air Force Base, even other locations that the Legion obviously had enough interest to write down. 

 _"In the shadow of the valley, I would like to settle down: wide open space, wind on my face. A distant horizon, the moon on the crest..."_ The song drifts from my Pip-Boy into the air. I climb the hill-like road slowly and my legs propel me. The cliffs remind me of home, real home, home with Mamá and Papá. I brush tufts of hair behind my ears and briefly look at the sky. It has been three years since I have seen my parents, probably a little more than that, and those three years have felt like five hundred. But I'm not sure if I would want to go back. I remember the last time I saw Mamá and she stared at me with eyes that asked not to leave. She was a small woman with small hands that flittered like birds when she was nervous. Her hands were moving a lot the day before I left, as if she knew what I was going to do. Papá was not happy the day before, either. Maybe they found out somehow. He was not a patient man and his height and stature helped accentuate his impatience. He seemed to be permanently angry with himself for not being able to give his wife a second child, much less a son. All they got was me.

* * *

It has taken me the whole day to arrive at the base, but I see it right before me in the dusk of the Mojave. Train tracks run to the right of me and an upward sloping road beckons me forward. A man is standing on the hump.

"Hey, you there!" He drops his cigarette on the ground and walks down to greet me. "You lookin' to go into Nellis Air Force Base?"

I nod, suddenly remembering the line drawn on the map, indicating the line of destroyed houses to follow and then the line of the fence. 

"Well, I have some critical information because those Boomers in there, they really don't like visitors.

"No, thanks," I tell him, my heart already starting to beat faster. If I mess up, it's the end for me. I begin to walk away, but he steps after me. 

"Hey, you didn't even listen, little lady." I clench my jaw and turn to glare at him straight in the face. He ignores my look and continues, "They've got these big ballistic shells and they'll shoot at whoever walks into their base. But me, I've got a way to get in. I can let you see it, for a price." He sneers, I think sex and I bypass him. I hear him call after me:

"Well, don't come crying back to me with shrapnel in your ass."

"I won't!" I yell back. I approach the dark mess of houses and suddenly hear a whooshing sound overhead. Those are the shells. I stay close to the houses, running. The whole ground shakes and I almost lose my balance as it lands somewhere in the ground. Another one is fired and I scramble over a mess of rubble to get away from where it seems intent on landing.

A thin piece of shrapnel flies up from the explosion and lands in the soft flesh of my thigh. I scream immediately as the pain bursts from the center of the wound. I see stars in my vision as I shut my eyes. It seems like a flower of pain, blooming from my thigh, throbbing. I breathe in sharply and look down. Only an edge of it is sticking out, about an inch. My fingertips scrape the edge and I test it, push it down a bit. Another scream of pain races through me as another shell rattles the ground.

" _Mierda_ ," I hiss. I am trying not to cry out as I continue to the fence. I need to keep the pressure on my left leg. My hand runs along the chain-link, routinely gripping it to keep myself moving along. The blasts make my ears ring and when the fence ends and I reach the gate, my body feels too heavy for me. 

Several people stand there, in vault suits and jackets. Two rush to me and one begins to ask me questions. 

"Who are you? What is your business here? How did you get here?" The questions fly at me like the throbs in my leg. One of the men helps me up and speaks to the woman who was asking me questions. She carries a large gun in her hand. 

"We need to get her to Argyll," he says and I look at the blue eyes that aren't staring at me. 

"She's an outsider," the woman hisses.

"I know, but think, she's obviously got guts if she made it here without dying. Pearl will want to meet her, you know it." 

I groan as the man hoists me up into his arms. The other is beside me and each support me under my shoulders. They lead me into the base, past the staring eyes of the others and into a cabin. It smells of blood, medicine, and piss. The man on my right calls to a figure working on a patient in the back. 

"Doc! We've got an outsider here. She's got shrapnel in her leg." 

The doctor is slow in turning around to look at me. I feel blood drip down to my ankle as his gaze finds the wound: the mess of blood and metal buried in the leather of my armor. 

"Alright, let's get this over with quick, put her up on the table," the doctor says. The two men place me onto the squishy foam of an old gurney and the doctor grabs his tools from a metal tray. "This will hurt, alright?" 

I nod and look away toward the curtain beside me. He gets to work, cutting the armor up to my thigh, poking and prodding at the wound carefully. He gives me some alcohol before he starts taking the shrapnel out. It burns my throat and the wound at the same time. I don't watch as he pulls the piece of metal from my skin, but I can feel it being slipped out and the pain pierces through my nerves.

"Don't move," the doctor mutters, as if reading my mind. I blink at the curtain and grit my teeth. "It's out," he says a moment later and grabs a needle, sewing the wound like I am a torn piece of clothing. 

The doctor cuts the excess thread and sets the scissors down with a clink. He leans back in the chair beside me and I immediately look at him and thank him. The men who brought me in are still standing in the cabin, near the door.

"Sure. You should go see Pearl now, she's in the main barracks. And maybe get a new change of clothes." His eyes dart to the men as he says the last part. 

I shake my head and reach for my bag, "No, I only need a place to change."

I get up and the men escort me out, but before I can leave, the doctor gives me a warning: "Be careful, we don't like strangers, but Pearl might let you off, seeing as you didn't get yourself killed coming here."

"Alright," I whisper and leave with the two Boomers.

* * *

 In my dress, I meet Pearl, an old woman in a matching outfit like the rest of the Boomers. She greets me, praises me for making it here, and then asks me what I want with the Boomers. 

"Caesar's Legion wants your assistance to win Hoover Dam."

"Really?" She asks. "Well, of course, nothing is free, especially our help. Say, you help us and we'll be on the Legion's side at the Battle." 

I breathe out. One step closer. "What do you need me to do?"

"Ask around, I'm sure Argyll and Loyal need help. You can find Loyal in the hangar."

Everyone wants my help, I think, as I leave the barracks and walk toward the large building toward the rear of the base. Some of the Boomers eye me, cautiously taking their big weapons off their back and putting them back on. I ignore them and listen to my boots hitting the asphalt. I have to try to walk carefully. The gash in my thigh still hurts like hell and the stitching could come undone if I move too rapidly too much. I breathe and look up at the cliffs surrounding the base. A small figure stands far away, atop one of the cliffs and I rummage in my bag for my binoculars. 

I increase towards the cliffs, the wind pushing against me, and move to stand next to the fence. Looking through the binoculars, I see the person in rags. They look down at me, gesture to me. My blood runs cold. I stand still and they motion again, so I hang the binoculars around my neck and find Maria. It's a journey up the cliffs, but they meet me halfway, crouch down on a ledge. 

"You have left without the permission of an officer," this man tells me and waits for my response. His hands hang between his legs, his elbows on his knees. He looks comical.

"I know," I mumble. What does he expect me to say? "Tell Caesar it won't happen again, but that I was prepared to leave and did not think I needed his word to go ahead."

"You did not even inform Vulpes Inculta, the one overseeing your operations."

I narrow my eyes, "Is he the one who sent you?"

"I was sent by Caesar." He examines me and purses his lips. "I'll send your message to the both of them. They are expecting your return sometime soon."

He leaves, walking along the top of the cliff into the darkness and I carefully step down, comforted once my feet find the pavement. I know I will not be returning soon. They expect results, and they'll get them even if they're not constantly looking over my shoulder. I glance around to see if anyone noticed my detour, but no one is around. I turn to the hangar.


	32. The Dive

I spend a week with the Boomers. I clear the engine room of ants, I listen to their history, I fix their broken solar panels, and I return with my hands dirtied and the dressing on my thigh in need of changing. In the days that pass, when I look up at night before entering the barracks, I see the legionary on the cliff. I expect letters or warnings from Vulpes or Caesar. He must have finally gotten out of bed after my days of rest. 

It's late afternoon and I find Pearl again to speak with her. She smiles at me and opens her arms as if to pull me into a hug. 

"You've helped us greatly and the only reward we can offer is fighting alongside the Legion for the Dam," she says. The Boomers could care less who wins the Dam because they believe they will be left alone no matter what. The quest for power doesn't matter to them; they already have dozens of heavy weapons at their disposable, all to themselves. "I'm sure you've already been informed about the bomber from Loyal," she continues. "He'll help you, but you need to raise the B-29 from Lake Mead."

"It's at the bottom of the lake?"

"Yes, but don't worry, I'm sure Jack will have something for you." She smiles again and I struggle to remember who Jack is. I nod to her as I leave and then remind myself of the blond boy in the hangar. He asked about a girl from the Crimson Caravan outpost in New Vegas, but I never went to see her for him. I swallow my saliva and the nauseous feeling I felt earlier returns.

I open the hangar door and the stale, warm air seeps out towards me. Loyal and the boy are packing up for the day, but I stop them.

"The bomber--" I begin.

"Oh, of course! Thank you for what you've done so far." Loyal sets something down on the ground and looks at me. "Take this," he says, "and these." He hands me what looks like a detonator and two large folded pieces of fabric. I stare at them and he tells me they are the flotation devices that will bring the airplane to the surface so that it can be dragged toward the shore. He looks at Jack, the boy, who glances up at me and opens his mouth.

"I can make a rebreather that will allow you breathe under water. You can help me to try to make it if you can, or bring me a pressure cooker." 

"I'll bring the pressure cooker," I tell him, pressing my hands together. I leave with them and tell them goodnight. I don't belong here and the people around me are not my friends. I will only be kind to them to get the job done.

I step into the barracks and place a hand on my thigh at the strain of hoisting myself up. The day's over and all there is to do now is to rest. Setting the detonator and the flotation devices underneath the bed, I crawl into it. The mattress is soft and I stare at the bottom of the bunk above me. I did not look for the Legionary on the hill and a small smile comes across my face. It fades. My hands run along the fabric of my dress but I don't dare to take it off, even if it is as dirty as my armor. I touch my breasts and they are sore, like the rest of my body, so I turn over and shut my eyes.

* * *

I carry the pressure cooker to Jack across the pavement of the base. I found it among a pile of rubble and pulled it out like I was saving its life. The two men, the old one and the boy, are working on something when I enter the long room of the hangar. 

"Good morning," Loyal says to me and I lie to his face with a smile. 

I hand the boy the pressure cooker, "Here, I brought this." He takes it from me with grimy hands. 

"Okay, I'll get to work on it right now." He smiles at the thing and then looks up. "Give me an hour," he tells me.

Loyal thanks me again for the second time and I linger and then the uncomfortable feeling of the dressing on my thigh comes forward from the back of my mind. I tell him I'll be back soon and take the walk to the doctor. In the coming weeks, I'll forget the names and faces of everyone here. Maybe soon, I'll be fighting at Hoover Dam, if the Legion allows it. They wouldn't want a woman killing more NCR than one of their centurions anyway. I shrug the thought off and open the wooden door of the doctor's cabin. He's drying his hands on a grimy towel and looks down at my thigh when I enter. 

"How is it?" He asks.

"I'm not sure," I respond. "I haven't checked it in awhile." 

"You should, you know. To heal properly, a wound needs to breathe. Besides, my office isn't always open and I'm not sure what kind of medical services the Legion have. But it should be near healed by the time you return." While he rambles, he gestures to the medical bed and starts to take off the dressing with careful fingers. I crane my head to look down at what he's doing. The dressing is soaked with a bit of blood and so is my leg. He cleans my skin and reapplies the gauze, taking a roll from the dish beside my head.

"Wait," I reach my hand out and he stops, looks at me. "Today I have to raise the bomber. Do you have plastic or something to keep water from getting in?"

He seems to ignore the part about the bomber and leans back. "Well...I'll see what I can do. But be careful, I don't want the stitches popping." 

"Right," I mumble and stare at the ceiling while he looks around. 

He produces a plastic bandage big enough to fit over the wound. "This may not keep water out, but it will provide some kind of protection. Whenever you come back here, make sure to see me, or try fixing it yourself. Here, take some gauze pads." 

They are soft in my hands and I push them into my bag. "Thank you." 

He tilts his head in recognition and I step slowly out the door, slowly out onto the long runway, slowly to the hangar.

The boy acknowledges me first. "I'm almost finished," he mumbles, raising his head. I touch the Mark around my neck and think of Sol. My gaze drops to the dirty floor of the hangar until Jack places a hand on my shoulder.

"Are you alright?" He asks. I clear my throat and take the rebreather from him.

"Yes, thanks." I tell Loyal goodbye and as I am leaving, he smiles in happiness at the prospect of the bomber being raised from the lake. I make haste returning to the barracks to gather my things. The sooner I leave, the sooner I am back to the Fort. And at least Vulpes will be there to greet me. I sling my bag over my shoulder and don't bother to tell any of the elders that I am leaving. 

I breathe in quickly once I leave the barracks and mark the crashed B-29 on my Pip-Boy, the coordinates given to me by Pearl. It's close to the Fort. I laugh in my head and think that I could swim there if I wanted. It will take nearly half a day to get to the bomber, so I speed up my pace and exit through the chain-link fence.

* * *

 It's afternoon and the sun is near to setting. Soon orange and red and pinks will fill the sky and mix with that cloudy blue that hangs over everything. I take a step forward, towards the lake, and rest my bag on the ground. I take from it the rebreather and the flotation devices, leaving the detonator at the top and ready for use. The rebreather looks almost like a gas mask and hold it in my hand until my heels dig into the sand leading down into the lake. I slip it over my head, adjust it over my face, and discard my dress and boots on the sand. Without thinking, I dive. The water is warm and surrounds me, flowing over me as I kick my legs. Desert people aren't good swimmers, but if you find little lakes you have to learn to swim to race the boys. 

I instinctively hold my breath but release it and try breathing in again. It works, as it should, and I push my legs harder until I see the large plane come into view. I float above it, trying hard to drag myself farther into the water. I grab onto one of the wings and hold myself down, long enough to attach one device under the wing. It sticks, with what I don't know, but it sticks. I swim to the other and do the same. I push off the metal with my feet and propel myself up, quickly turning back to see the limp fabric under the wings waving with the movement of the water. 

Several more kicks and waves of my arms and I am back on the surface, my body heavy. I look down at my leg and touch it. The gauze of the wound is soaked, so I strip it and sit down to dress myself and reapply the bandage. I tug the rebreather off in a hurry. It will be messy, but I layer the gauze and bandages over some healing powder, hoping that that will help. The stitches haven't popped, but I should still be cautious. I sigh and rise to pick up the detonator, which I aim at the water. I pull the trigger and the unusual lack of a gunshot leaves a weird feeling in my chest.

Before I know it, the bomber is rising and I am watching with interest. I imagine myself flying and understand the Boomers for a second. Flying is freedom and it seems that only heavy metal birds offer freedom. 

 


	33. The Success

When I pass through the Boomer's gates, it seems they already know that I've succeeded. There are joyous and even the elders are outside among the rest. Pearl is standing near the barracks and congratulates me with a smile, stepping forward to me at the same time. 

"You have made our dreams into realities, Outsider. We will help your Legion in whatever way we can."

She seems to be waiting for me to respond, so I smile and nod. 

"Follow me, please," she tells me and we turn around toward the barracks. "We have always thought of this moment, this moment of being in the skies, I mean, and although it is not literally here each one of us can see it in our minds." 

I hum at her rambling and allow her to lead me toward a small pile of folded clothes on top of a desk. 

"These," she hands them to me, "are for you. You can come and go through this base whenever you please." It's a boomer jumpsuit and a flight cap. 

I raise my eyebrows. "Thank you." I slip the items from her hands and blink at her. "I think it's time for me to leave now. I'm sure they are expecting me back soon."

"Of course, good luck."

Good luck with what? The Battle? The Legion? I press my lips together and leave. The Boomers tell me goodbye as I leave the base and disappear down the asphalt.

It's not long before the legionary appears along the road, against the wall of a little shack, and dressed in rags. 

"You are coming back to the Fort?" He asks, not waiting for me to stop and face him before he begins speaking. 

"Yes, tell Caesar and Vulpes Inculta."

"Or you can tell them when you arrive." He pauses. "Maybe I can offer you some protection?"

"I can protect myself, thank you." I tell him, but he laughs and I watch as he takes the rifle from his back. 

"I've heard there are deathclaws around these parts, woman."

"Well, maybe one of them will come for you. I've read that they enjoy the taste of cowardly men. The flesh is chewy."

He laughs and I stare at the asphalt underneath my feet. "What were those degenerate Boomers teaching you? Besides, I can't leave you. It's an order. From my commanding officer." He looks ahead at the dark sky. 

I trace the insignia on the Mark and furrow my brows. I laugh out loud, without meaning to, and the legionary stares at me. It's funny, thinking that Vulpes would want someone to follow me. I have nowhere else to go. I can only return to the Fort now. If I tried to go in any other direction, my legs wouldn't move, could not move. 

"Fine," I mutter at last. "Don't get in my way or you'll probably have those rags filled with bullet holes."

"Remember to hold your tongue when you reach the Fort."

* * *

I don't dare to make camp in the legionary's presence, even though my eyes beg to close and he offers to build a fire. I tell him I'll sleep when I am back at the Fort and he continues down the path beside me. We never meet deathclaws, but he proves to be a good shot when raiders aim at us from the cliffs above. 

The sooner he leaves my side, the sooner I'll be happy. The only way to the Fort is through Cottonwood Cove and it is almost morning when we step onto the raft and ride up the water's current. The sky is a bluish gray. The sun is not out yet and the stars are dim, expecting morning. I drop my eyes after awhile and lower myself to a sitting position, the legionaries gaze burning into my side as he watches me. I stretch out my leg ahead of me and take the gauze from my bag. My hands take the trip around my thigh, tearing and ripping the old dressing from it as gently as I can. The wound still hurts deep in the muscle, but I run my finger over the stitches and feel no pain. The skin is slightly pink, as I expected, but it seems fine. I dress it quickly before the legionary gets the nerve to ask questions. 

Lucullus looks at me as I stand and I tug my dress down my legs. I'll need new armor, I realize, as I turn away to flick through the pages on my pip-boy. The time reads one in the morning and fatigue sets in, strong and abrupt, as soon as I see the numbers. I rub my hair and my face and yawn. 

"The Courier's tired?" The legionary looks down at me, arms crossed.

I shake my head and stand. "No," I mutter and wait for the raft to find the docks of the Fort.

There is only the occasional legionary milling about when we return and step onto the sand. The soldier accompanying me quickly parts ways after saying that he'll inform Caesar of my return. I nod cordially and follow the path to my tent. My bag weighs five hundred pounds by the time I reach the tent and pass through the fabric. Inside, the air is cold. No one has been in here for awhile and it no longer smells like sweat. I set the bag at the foot of the bed and slide under the blankets, which are also cold. My back cracks as I lay down and I let out an audible breath of air. Sleep comes very soon.

* * *

 "And we were all wondering what day you would come back." 

I wake startled by a voice I know too well. Vulpes stands in the entrance to my tent, arms out to hold open the flaps, and the sun beating in from behind him. I shield my eyes and turn fully to sit up in bed. 

"The Boomers would only help the Legion if I helped them. It took awhile," I mumble.

"I know," he answers and enters. My head hurts from all the changing light and my eyes follow his movement. "The legionary told me you had a wound?"

Before I even respond to him I look at him and narrow my eyes slightly. "I didn't need protecting."

He hums, paces in a slow circle as he has been doing and says, "I would have come after you myself if I could have, but I have duties here. Besides, he was also sent to keep an eye on you, to see how your proceedings with the Boomers went. We will discuss that in a few, with Caesar, but for now, lift up your dress."

My mouth opens and I stare at him. He has stopped moving and waits for me. I stand and lift the hem to my stomach and look at his face as he looks at my thigh. 

"How did this happen?" 

"Shrapnel," I trace the shape of the wound over the dressing. "From when I first entered the base."

He hums again, more like a grunt than any sort of musical noise, and his eyes find my face. "You should see the woman..." His voice fades, his eyes search for something. 

"Siri," I complete his sentence. 

"Right." He raises his chin slightly and inhales. My eyes flicker across his face and I step forward slowly as he reaches out to take my hand. He exhales and I can't help but watch his chest lower. "I was worried."

"That I wouldn't gain the Boomers' approval?" I look at him. He places a hand on my hip and uses the other to guide my grasp to his neck.

"No, María. I was worried about you." This time, I lower my gaze.

"I missed you." I surprise myself by hugging him and hugging him tight. I wrap my arms around him and hide my face in his shoulder. His skin is soft and cool as it brushes mine and the only thing I allow myself to do is to breathe. I'm no longer tired, but I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lip. I feel like I'm going to cry. "I missed you," I tell him again. He pets my hair. There's a slow silence between us.

"Come," he whispers. He swipes his thumbs under my eyes, hoping to catch tears. A few fat, heavy drops have fallen. He kisses my forehead and places a hand on my back. "We'll have to clean you up after meeting with Caesar."

I nod and straighten my shoulders. We navigate our way to the big tent in the center of the Fort and my hands begin to sweat. Luckily, Vulpes enters before me, and I follow close behind. My eyes track his heels.

I hear a shift of fabric and a steady, "Ahh." I look up. Caesar is sitting in his chair, one leg over the other and his head rising from the pedestal of his fist. "Vulpes Inculta," he greets, and then he spots me behind Vulpes. I clench my teeth in anticipation of confrontation. Vulpes takes his place beside the chair and I lower myself to my knee. 

"Caesar--" I begin. 

"I know. I know about it. You helped the Boomers and they've sworn loyalty to us at Hoover Dam. Congratulations." There is a hint of a smile on his face, or maybe there isn't, I can't tell. I'm already thinking ahead before I fully understand what comes out of my mouth next.

"And you're not upset about my leaving?"

He chuckles. "I was at first, of course, but then I thought and thought some more and I finally came to the conclusion that if you were going to switch sides, you would've done it before. I had Vulpes send one of his Frumentarii just in case, though." 

I nod and open my mouth, then close it again. Caesar waits expectantly. "The White Gloves are next, yes?"

 


	34. The Sun

The White Gloves. Rumors circulated The Strip that they were cannibals, still clinging to their roots as roaming tribals. They had cleaned up well, though, it seemed. They were the finest. Gomorrah was the lowest. The Tops was the middle ground, not too fancy for you to be put off, but not too disgusting either. Benny had done a good job with them. Thinking of him no longer makes me want to cry. I haven't been able to count the days since I last saw him, no, since he last lived, but I feel as if it has been years. I shiver in the space of my tent.

Caesar has given his blessing for me to go to New Vegas after my thigh has completely healed. Vulpes had instructed slaves to bring me fresh clothes and a bath. Now I am the one who avoids eye contact with the women. 

I soak until my fingers and toes prune and scrub myself clean. The dirt flows down into the tub as I run the soap over myself. The tub is taken away after I step out and dress in clean clothes.

I sit on the edge of my bed and look towards the entrance. Siri emerges with her hands full of bandages and healing powder. She sets them on the bed and sighs, looking at me with such sad eyes. "Let's see what's wrong," she mutters.

She asks me to lay down and stands at the side of the bed, looking over me. She holds her hands to her chest, fingers intertwining and touching one another. I lift my dress instinctively and move my eyes back to her face. Her brows furrow and she sets to work. Her fingers are cold like raindrops against my skin and goosebumps rise in response. 

"It's healing well," she suddenly says, breaking the silence. "All I need to do is redress it and you shouldn't have any problems."

"Good," I rest my hands on my stomach. "Thank you."

I see her nod out of the corner of my eye. I can feel her replacing the gauze, recovering, re-taping. She runs a hand over the bandage to smooth it down and lifts herself up. I do the same and look her in the eye. 

"There's something else..." Something gnawing at the back of my mind. Her eyes soften at my words and she sets the bloodied, left over bandage, at the foot of my bed. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I-I don't know if this is something that really matters, but my body aches more than usual." I fumble with the sheets as I let the words fall. 

"Did you eat while you were with the Boomers?" She asks. 

"Yes, I don't think any of that is the problem, though."

"Well, I can make a remedy for you--just don't tell any of the legionaries."

"I won't. Thank you."

She leaves quietly and swiftly and I'm alone. For awhile I stare at the dark red of the tent above me and finally slide my feet off the bed. Being back here is comforting, but I feel hot under this thin dress. I haven't eaten since before I left the Boomers and there must still be scraps waiting for me outside. The sun seems too bright and the men too loud as they laugh and train. I push my bare feet into the sand as I step down the hill to the mess tent. The slaves are starting to take away the food to be thrown to the dogs--or possibly snuck into their pockets for themselves. I snatch an ear of maize and a bit of beef. They see me, but don't say anything. I lower my head and walk away, unsure of where to go next. Vulpes informed me in Caesar's tent that I deserved some rest. It seems lately that they have been wanting to make me lazy. I breathe through my nose in a kind of laugh, take a bite of the steak, and wipe my mouth. 

In front of me, hunched over a fire is Sol. I want to run to him, but I opt to walk instead. 

"Sol..." I mutter once I'm beside him.

He looks up and blinks, wipes the water from his eyes. "You're back."

"Mmm-hmm," I grunt and sit down beside him. I offer him the maize. He puts his hand up to reject it. "What are you trying to do? Get smoke in your eyes so you can't see anymore?"

"Something like that." He drops himself to the ground and crosses his legs. He looks at them and picks at scabs and scratches. I take a bite of my food and look into the fire. "I missed your company," he says suddenly. 

I forget to smile and offer him my hand, the one not holding the food. He takes it. His hands are warm and rough, almost the color of my own. "I missed you too." I sigh too loudly and he looks at me.

I don't say anything for a moment and then let the words come out, "Have you been alright? Do you have any news about your legend?"

He nods. "I'm fine. No one has bothered me since..." He doesn't say the next few words, but shakes his head, and focuses his attention back on me. "Nothing new about him."

"Do you still have your book?"

"Yes, of course, they would have to kill me to get it. I have done some drawings," he beams. "I would show you, but well..." He looks around at the soldiers. I finish my food before nodding to him.

"You can show me in the tent," I tell him and he smiles. I rise first and help him to his feet. We walk side by side, me looking down at my feet as they follow some one else's footsteps. He walks beside me, looking at me.

"When are you leaving this time?" His voice is soft and his words almost blend together. 

"Tomorrow morning. I'm going back to New Vegas."

He hums, "Alright. I will have to make something for you before you leave." He looks down. "I'm sorry I've been distant. I just, even though you're here, I still feel very alone."

"I know, I'm sorry. Hopefully, Caesar won't have any more tasks for me soon after this." We're at my tent and he lets me enter first. I sit on the bed and pat the sheet for Sol to join me. 

"I hope your lover won't keep you from me in that time," he places himself next to me.

I shake my head and my cheeks warm. "Aren't you supposed to be at recruit training?" I knock his leg with mine.

"After I show you this." He takes the book from inside his shirt once more and flips through it. Scribbled notes on each page and then, what he's looking for. It's a man kneeling with the Legion's flag behind him. His hand is on his chest and a small fire burns from both. "I've been doing this in my spare time, little by little, in front of a candle. Before the men catch me, of course." He looks at me for my response. 

"Where did you learn to draw like this?" 

"Home," he tells me, staring straight into my eyes. My lips droop and my brows furrow. "I miss home." He shuts the book and places it beside him.

"Me too." I think of my parents and crushed fruit under my heel and the taste of sand in my mouth. I think of my mother kissing my tear-streaked face after falling in the backyard. I think of feeding bighorners who tried to bite off my hand more than once. I think of my father yelling at me from the front door to hold the scythe higher. I think of boys with dirt that shakes from their hair when they hit one another. I look at Sol and want to cry. The last time I cried was this morning, so I lay back in the bed and turn on my side. "I miss home so much."

I want him to say that I'm not being held here like he is, so that I can bite my lip and look away, but he's silent. He touches my leg, conceals his book, and tells me he has to leave before he gets in trouble. I tell him goodbye and wait for the next visitor. 

She comes with the light surrounding her and I want to laugh. 

"Have you eaten, yet?" Is the first thing Siri asks. She gives me a pouch of something.

"Yes." I open the pouch and peer inside. A dark powder sits there, taking up half the bag. 

"It's all herbs, known to cure aches and pains. Mix it with water whenever you feel weary and it should help you."

"Right," I respond. "Thank you."

She presses her hands together. "Tell me if you need anything more."

But I shake my head and get up to set the pouch on the table. She leaves with a sad smile and I fondle the Mark, staring at the entrance to my tent with narrowed eyes. Light peeks through, escaping from outside to join me in the dark. I push myself back into bed.


	35. The Offer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been gone so long!! Thank you for sticking with this.

This is my first time inside the Ultra-Luxe. The interior gleams like a clean piece of glass and the dealers match the high standard with their white gloves, white masks. 

I had to avert my eyes coming here, scared that memories would spring from my mind in full bloom.

A man comes up to me. "Welcome to the Ultra-Luxe. Before you enjoy your stay, may I ask that you deposit your weapons here? We wouldn't want our reputation tarnished by a fight," he chuckles and I set my bag, and Liberator, into an open footlocker on a table. Maria is pressed against my abdomen, stuck into my underwear. A folded straight razor sits between my breasts, in the tank top I use to cover myself under my dress. I give the greeter a small smile as he lets me pass and tells me to enjoy the casino. I suck on my teeth. My briefing from Vulpes in the morning was short: get in, try to convince the Society of an allegiance with Caesar if they are reluctant, and return to the Fort. 

"And what if they say they don't want to ally themselves with the Legion?" I had asked

"There is not much they can do to us if they become our enemies. House is dead. There are our final option, and just that, an option. Return to Caesar first, not to me." Vulpes had let me leave with a kiss on my lips, clutching my face. His affection now came freely in private, and even appeared in sudden public glances.  

I itch my ankle with the toe of my boot and wander forward towards the passageway with the shining "casino" sign. I imagine myself as a woman 200 years before, so ignorant of everything, of the bombs about to fall in the country around me. There's a desk in front of me, with a woman behind it.

"Good afternoon," she greets after seeing me. 

"Hello," I lower my voice to a whisper, "I am a representative from Caesar's Legion. They wish to make an alliance with your White Glove Society in the upcoming Battle of Hoover Dam."

"Oh yes, of course." She grins. "They, hmm? I didn't know the Legion allowed women among its ranks." I can tell she won't continue until I respond. 

"I...I'm an officer's wife." 

She just hums. "The answer is no. Tell your 'Caesar' that the White Glove Society has no interest in stooping to the level of the Legion. They're a group of uncivilized barbarians, and we don't wish to have our name tied to theirs." She ends the conversation abruptly by turning her back on me and walking into the room behind her desk. I can't help but feel stunned. Maybe the rumors of cannibalism weren't true. Or maybe they were. I take one last look at the desk and turn to face the entrance. 

I smooth my hands over my dress and feel the sick simmer of failure in my throat. Biting the inside of my cheek, I make my way out towards the blackjack tables. I stop by the greeter for my weapons. 

"Leaving so early?" He questions.

I nod. "Left all my extra caps at the hotel."

I can't see if he's grinning, but I hear it. "It happens." And he watches as I retrieve my weapons. I could turn around now and threaten her, I think as the fabric makes contact with my shoulder. But then I remind myself it doesn't really matter and think of returning to the Fort.

Turning and hunching over, I take my hidden weapons from underneath my dress and deposite them into my bag, which I lug over my shoulder. The heat creates ripples above the asphalt as I look out towards the fence. I keep my head down walking by the Tops, walking past the Lucky 38. The Strip feels oppressive suddenly. I make my way to the gates and quickly through Freeside. Every thing is the exact opposite of the desert and Strip, the worst Purgatory possible. 

I enter the desert and am only a few miles outside of New Vegas when I lick my dry lips and reach for my water bottle. Up ahead is a small NCR encampment with guards stationed near it. I shove the Mark under my dress and put Liberator in my bag. I saunter forward and walk south, wanting to get as far away from the encampment as possible.

Before I can fully make a circle around the camp, I hear gunshots go off. I can't tell if they are aimed in my direction, but I start running. My boots slap into the sand as the gunshots continue, get quieter the farther I run. I walk until I reach the highway. An urge to sit down on the hot, steaming asphalt rises in me. Everything suddenly hurts, and worried, I check my body for bullet wounds. There's no one spot that aches, so I take the pouch of herbs from my bag and breathe the scent of it deeply. I pour a small amount in my hand and mix it with water from my canteen. I rub my legs and arms with it and put the rest of the pouch into my bag. I'm not really sure if the herbs work, but I apply them anyways.

I look ahead at the highway. I don't know what's wrong with me. There's a gap somewhere, a longing for something that I cannot describe. Maybe it's home, real home, not the Fort. And I could leave, but part of me knows that my parents wouldn't want me back, and part of me doesn't want to go back. What am I without a purpose? What am I without the color red on and under my skin? I grab the Mark from my bag and put it around my neck.

* * *

It's evening when I report back to the Fort. I shake my hair of sand and dust and deposit my bag into my tent before crossing the path to Caesar's own tent. It's dark when I first enter, but my eyes adjust and I see the two flaming pyre beside his chair. A harsh red glow splashes over the faces of the men, Vulpes first, his body shielding Caesar from the light, with Lucius protecting on the other side. 

"Well?" Caesar asks. 

"The White Glove Society rejected our offer," I respond. 

He laughs, hums. "Just another tribe to crush, now, I suppose," he says.

My throat stings, so I look away from him as he continues. I can hear him murmuring about cannibalism as I look up at Vulpes. There's a unexpected look of desire in his eyes, or maybe it's the fire reflecting off of him. He looks otherworldly, his skin orange and slightly damp from sweat, the shadows under the bones of his face darkened. He nods slightly at me. My stomach twinges, but I hold my tongue. Caesar finishes his speech and dismisses me without further word.

I retreat to my tent and am too tired, but too awake, to look for Sol. I untie my boots first, sitting on the edge of my bed, and then remove my dress and my underclothes, dirtied from sand and heat, and lie back in the cool stillness of the desert night. The pillow seems to cradle my head as I wait for Vulpes to join me.

I sit in the dark. 

Five minutes pass and I hear the tent flaps open. Vulpes makes his way slowly to me. A hand comes to rest on my thigh under the sheet and I wonder if Vulpes is checking my wound. I shut my eyes, so that I don't see his figure in the dark, and listen to him undress. Everything he wears sounds heavy when it hits the ground. My heart beats faster. The mattress shifts with his weight and my hands want to reach blindly, but they stay still at my sides. 

I feel the warmth of his body and breath as he presses himself on top of me. There's the brief brush of his bare chest against mine and I feel whole suddenly. 

I whisper his name and finally reach up to find his face. I cup my hand around his jaw and feel it move as he responds. 

"Shh. Come here." He leans down to lift my back up, to push me closer to him, and I wrap my arms around his neck. I'm the one who's pulling him down now and our legs are brushing against each other. He doesn't feel heavy. My body doesn't feel heavy. I think we're weightless.

* * *

My head rests on Vulpes's chest as he plays with my hair.

"Thank you" I tell him. Our bodies are still hot and sticky from sex. I can feel his heartbeat beneath me and a part of me finds it strange to think that he's human.

He hums, his fingers making a path down my back. He is so beautiful in this moment, his skin dewy and flushed, his eyes half-shut, his mouth slightly open. He looks at peace. 

I furrow my brows and tap his chest lightly. "What will happen after the Legion wins Hoover Dam?"

"We will go to New Vegas to take it as our territory, _amica mea_." My fingers topple to his chest and I rest my hand. 

"You'll destroy it?" 

"If that is what is necessary. Come let us sleep. We will worry more tomorrow." I can feel his muscles tense, as if he's preparing to turn himself on his side, but I stop him.

"But what about me?" I feel dumb asking my second question. "What about us?" 

He sighs, "That is for tomorrow. For another day. Let me sleep."

I press my lips together in the darkness and decide not to push further. I rest my head on his chest and shut my eyes; his breathing is steady as he moves his hand to my arm. He's warm and so is the blanket on top of us. Sleep floods me quickly. 


	36. The Annunciation

It's not morning yet when I crawl over Vulpes and almost fall on my hands and knees to the floor. I hear his voice, a wave of noise in the back of my head, but I rush towards the entrance of the tent. I try to cover my mouth with my hand, back bent, skin dark in the thick early morning hours, but the vomit comes rushing from me. My fingers part and I bring them away as fast as I can, already covered in bile and my last meal. I can hear Vulpes's padding footsteps as I retch once more, my body doubling and my throat stinging. His footsteps stop and I shut my eyes as I retch again. I finally stand, trying to find my footing. My body is shaking; I haven't thrown-up since I was a child. Vulpes stares at me and I bring a wobbly hand to my lips, wipe the vomit from my face and follow him to the entrance of the tent. The change in air on my skin makes me realize I'm naked and I hunch inside of the tent as I wait for Vulpes to bring me a towel. 

He offers it to me and his eyes flit like birds across my face. 

At last he mutters, "What did you eat?"

"Nothing," I respond. Saliva sits like in a glob in my mouth. I hand him back the towel and he grabs my arm, runs the clean side of the fabric over my skin. 

"Lie down." And so I do, crawling back into the bed, my body still shaking. 

Although fatigue weighs on me like wet clothes, I can't fall back asleep. I rise and dress while Vulpes turns to look at me, his head resting on his hand. 

“Where are you going?” He asks.

"I don’t know,” I answer. He does not leave the bed.

"Fine. Come back soon.”

I leave without responding, dress sticking to my sweaty thighs. 

The slaves are cooking early morning breakfast and the meat smells disgusting. I breathe through my mouth, exhale deeply, and almost slip walking down the small hill to the exit of the Fort. I don't know what's wrong with me. I sigh, lean into the fence separating the outside world and the Fort. I should have brought Siri's pouch of herbs; maybe I should go see her again, tell her that the pains are still here, and now it's gotten worse. 

I hear someone walking towards me and I straighten, wipe my mouth again just to make sure.

"María?" Sol's singsong voice makes me turn around. "What are you doing?" 

"I--I can't sleep," I look at him in return, expecting his answer for his own appearance.

"I'm sorry. I've been trying to plan my escape." I can't tell if he's joking or not because of his grin, but I nod. 

"Do you need help?" I ask him. 

"No, I should be fine."

"How do you plan on leaving?"

He pulls his book from his shirt once more and opens it, turning the pages until he reaches a new drawing. "I have been taking candles to create my masterpieces by." He laughs, turns the book to let me look at the drawing. It's him, on a cross, head down with curls facing the viewer, body thin and only covered by fabric hanging from his hips, blood dripping from his hands, feet, and side.

My mouth opens and I look up at him. I can feel my eyebrows furrowing, my lips drying. "Why did you draw this?" I ask. 

"It's my escape plan," he says proudly. I take his hand quickly and squeeze it. 

"Please don't say that," I mutter to him. "Please don't." 

He looks at me quizzically, pulls his hand gently away, opens his mouth. "You don't know how I feel. You have so much freedom. Much more than other outsiders here. You came here by choice. I was dragged. You don't understand, María." The sun begins to rise, golden glow staining Sol's cheek. He takes his book back. "I'm not upset," he says in the end. Soldiers begin to shuffle from their beds and our short meeting is over. Sol gives me one last look from underneath his brows and turns away to walk towards the training dummies. I leave also, worrying the skin on the back of my hand, and return to a dressing Vulpes. 

He looks at me with a turn of his head, fingers gripping the laces of his armor. I automatically move towards him, pull tightly on the string, and tie them as he questions me: "Where did you go?" 

"For a walk." He holds my wrists lightly. I touch the metal of the chestplate and look up at him briefly, narrow my eyes. He stares down with an imposing gaze, as if I'm challenging him, but I only reach up to give him a kiss.

Vulpes pulls away and examines me one last time before leaving. "I will tell Caesar you are feeling ill. In the meantime, you should see the medicinal woman."

"Right," I mumble as he closes the flaps of the tent and leaves me to the emptiness.

With the rising heat and the slight pain in my body, I seek the island of the bed. The covers smell dirty, but I climb into them anyways. The mattress is soft, accepting, and I turn on my side to shut my eyes; sleep slips in like wind. 

* * *

The hot nap leaves my mouth dry and my skin red with blanket marks. I run my hands over my body and step out of bed, lace up my boots. My stomach growls at the sun that sits high in the sky as I step onto the sand. 

I head towards the mess tent first, moving among the mingling men. I take hot meat and vegetables from the steaming plates and eat quickly, hungrily, with my back turned to the soldiers. Facing the tables, I notice Sol sitting on one of the benches. His eyes briefly meet mine, but he averts his gaze. I hold my hands together, by the fingers, contemplate walking towards him, but decide, in the end, not to.

Suddenly, Siri rushes past the mess tent, her arms full of pouches and roots. I follow her. 

"Siri," I call. She turns just as she is coming towards her small medicine table.

"Oh, are you alright?" Her face looks almost alarmed.

"Well...no, I don't think so. I vomited this morning."

She furrows her brows. "Maybe something's wrong with the food. Did you just eat?" 

"Yes, and it tasted fine. I think there's something wrong with me."

She moves behind the table and reaches underneath, retrieving a glass container of dried leaves. She plucks out two and hands them to me. "Here, these will help you. Eat them and come back here tomorrow if you feel nauseous again. I'm sorry to push you away so quickly, but healing powder is in high demand with increased NCR skirmishes." She musters a sad laugh. I give her a smile and return to the tent, already pushing one leaf between my lips. 

I ask for a bath, and it arrives shortly after. I shed my clothes and dip into the steaming water, grateful when watching the dirt come off from my skin. My muscles relax and I scrub hard underneath my nails, along my thighs and shoulders until the skin reddens.

My stomach begins to feel slightly better as the rest of the day passes uneventfully. The bath is taken away, the sun sets, and Vulpes returns, pressing his body against mine to warm me.

* * *

Another morning comes and the food from yesterday leaves my stomach outside of the tent. Some of the vomit splashes onto my legs, and as the last of the bile ends up on the sand, I shudder. 

Vulpes's voice is cool and stern when I enter the tent once again. "María."

He sits up in bed, looks me over as I scurry to pick up a cloth to wipe my mouth with.

"I don't know," I mumble, my voice as shaky as my stomach. "I don't know."

"Did you visit the woman yesterday?" 

"Yes, she gave me these leaves. They're supposed to help me." I take the second one from the bedside table and chew until the flavor spreads throughout my mouth. 

"You should see her again," he offers. "Now." 

"Yes," I say. I step into my boots and lace them, take Vulpes's cold hand in my own for a second, and leave. 

I'm worried, and my worry grows when nausea settles into my stomach. Whatever the women are coming for breakfast smells disgusting. I pick at the fabric of my dress, but attempt to keep my composure as walk steadily to Siri.

She's behind the table once more. Her expression changes into expectation when she looks up at me. "Do you throw up again?" 

I nod, look away, my cheeks turning hot. 

"I was thinking, since yesterday, and I might know your problem. The other women come to me often with similar complaints and it comes down to one thing. Tell me, have you been keeping track of your menstrual cycle?" She looks at me with her dark eyes, waiting for my answer. 

"I--no." Immediately my body stiffens and I put my hand to my stomach, pinky across my navel. "Do you really think...?" 

"Morning sickness, that's why you've been vomiting. And your body, it's been sore?" 

"Yes, but still maybe..." I stop, my mouth closing. I don't want a child, not yet, at least. Not here, in the Fort. My head feels heavy, I drop it to stare at my feet.

"These are all signs. And still, I know that you've been...sharing a bed with Vulpes Inculta. No woman leaves from the Fort untouched. Still, there are ways to abort a child, but without modern medicines that the Legion forbids, you could be seriously injured."

"Wait, please. Is there a way to check? To make sure I'm pregnant? I can't make any decisions until I know for sure."

"The only thing you can do is wait. But you know your body best, make sure you pay attention to it. Good luck." Siri is back to grinding herbs in the mortar and humming to herself quietly. 

I decide, with my hands feeling like weights and my body almost numb, to tell Vulpes. 

I stop him in the entrance to my tent, ask him to come back inside despite his protests. I take his arm and he looks at me with slight anger in his eyes. 

"What?" 

"I know now why I don't feel well." I wait a minute. He says nothing, so I continue, "I think I'm...pregnant."

His eyebrows push together, as if he does not believe me. And then he steps closer to me. I don't know what he's going to say when his mouth opens and he breathes out. 

"That is..." I wait, my heart beat quickening. "Perfect." It's not what I expected him to say as he pulls me to him, mutters into my ear with quiet excitement, "Do you know what this means?" I make a sound before he interrupts me. "We will have a son who will be the purest legionary. Not from a tribe, not from a slave mother, but from here, from you, my María." He detaches from me. "We have made the beginning to a new breed. And if it is a daughter, she will carry the next generation, as you are doing now." 

I step away from him, unnerved at his happiness. He gives me some semblance of a smile and says he must leave and that he will discuss our child's future more when he returns. I let him go in his excitement.

I press a hand to my stomach. I do not want a daughter. 


	37. The Canyon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the hits and kudos!! I apologize for the wait.

Vulpes returns in the night as I'm lighting the candles on the table. I shouldn't have an open flame while I sleep, but something in me welcomes the idea of chaos and fire.

I breathe in when I see him and light the last candle. He embraces me from behind and my back grows rigid. He holds his breath, I can almost feel it in his lungs, beneath his ribcage, pressed against my spine. His skeleton against my own, the barest of bare, tendons holding me together, but a fury, a desire, keeping his bones in place.

"My love," he breathes into my ear. 

I hold his arm, rub my thumb across his skin, and hum, "I'm tired." I can guess what he wants, his pelvis pressed into my hips, his hands encompassing me, but I don't want any of that tonight. 

I can feel his chest rise, his intake of air, and his slightly defeated sigh. He guides me to the bed and I panic, skin feeling hotter and heavier, until he whispers that he'll let me get my rest.

He falls asleep much faster than I do, my brain swirling with emotions. A child means being tied down. A child means relinquishing all freedom to something that cannot even talk in the first few years. I try to imagine what my child would look like, dressed in legion armor, blood on their face, or maybe they would be the peacemaker. I imagine a son who is trained in his father's footsteps, big and proud and handsome. And I imagine a daughter, pushed into beds and marriages because of me. I shut my eyes tight.

I clutch the short, uneven ends of my hair, feeling my stomach twist. Maybe that's the feeling of a child growing inside you, something twisting you. Pushing my forehead into Vulpes's scarred back, I am suddenly thankful for him, even though he could never understand.

* * *

I'm alone in the morning and experience my ritual of cleansing, losing bile into the packed earth. My sight is blurred by tears when I look up, staring at the sand and tents before me. 

"Courier, Lord Caesar requests your presence." A praetorian guard stands near me, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, looking at my vomit instead of me. 

"Tell him I'll be there soon." I rush back inside, bent over, letting drips of saliva fall from my mouth. I clean myself and pull a tan dress over my head quickly. More than anything I'd like to stay in bed, but Caesar's impatience gnaws at my skin like an insect. The day is overcast, echoing the feeling seeping into my body, and I suddenly remember I forgot to check the wound in my thigh. But it's too late to turn back as run my hand over the fabric of Caesar's tent. From the entrance, I can already note Vulpes's absence. 

My chest rises with a breath as I approach Caesar. I drop to a knee. He looks up from his hand and addresses me with a glance. 

"So, I've heard you're pregnant with Vulpes Inculta's child."

I stiffen, face warming. My head feels like it's on fire, but I have to stare up at him anyway, respond to his bait. The first time I snapped back, he hit me across the face, so this time I fold into myself, hide my feelings from him. 

"Yes," I answer. 

His mouth widens into a smile and he speaks again, "This is exciting for my Legion. Very exciting. I'm sure Vulpes already explained the possibilities that your child's birth can bring." He pauses, as if waiting for me to respond and breathes in through his nose. "You've suddenly become very valuable, don't you realize?"

"Oh, I know," I say, adjusting my weight in the sand. He smiles again and steeples his fingers, leaning down to look over me. 

"I have one last task for you, for now at least. The Great Khans, I'm sure you know who they are, have become suspicious of the Legion's promise of an alliance. Karl, one of Vulpes's Frumentarii, is our ambassador and he has become frustrated enough to express some contempt for the Great Khans. After all, he is correct, there are just barbarians, but incorporating another tribe into our ranks, of course, increases our numbers and spreads our control to other territories. I need you, a woman, to convince them of the benefits of the Legion. I'm allowing Vulpes to join you at Red Rock Canyon."

"We'll leave shortly," I respond before rising to my feet and bowing slightly to Caesar. I leave without turning back and without another word, eyes staring straight at the exit. Before I can reach it, the flap opens and Vulpes ducks under.

He doesn't look surprised to see me and instead of speaking, takes my hand. It's warm and comforting. 

"I have something for you," he tells me once we follow the path down to the officer's tents. "Something to help you on our journey to Red Rock Canyon.

"What is it?"

"New armor. Legion armor." 

My voice tumbles from my mouth, "I'd like to see it," as we turn the path to his tent. We've been spending so much time together, shared between our two tents, his holding a coldness without being empty like mine. 

He allows me to pass through before him. Sitting folding on the desk are shoulder pads, a red tunic, and strips of leather that serve as a belt. I look at Vulpes before touching it, not asking for permission, just trying to glimpse what I might look like with Legion armor. Vulpes's shoulders are narrow, but the shoulder pads make them look larger, wider. The tunic ends near his knee, exposing his pale, hair-sprinkled legs. I let myself blush a little girl's blush before turning back to look at the armor.

I pick up the tunic and examine it, smell it. I feel Vulpes approach behind me and he asks to put the armor on my body.

"Alright," I tell him and he begins to undress me, running his hands over my body, stopping at the healed wound on my thigh. It hurts when he presses his middle finger into the scar, but he pulls his hand away, running his fingers, instead, up my hips and across my abdomen to my shoulders.

"You do not know what you mean to me, " he says and I lift my arms, but drop my head. The red tunic itches slightly against my skin, but I don't notice because silent tears are running down my face. He doesn't notice until he turns me around. 

"Are you saying that because I'm carrying your child?" I say, voice high and squeaky, aching in my throat. 

His face says yes, even though he's staring at me without an expression. He shakes his head, and his eyes grow cold as he continues to tie the laces on the armor. He finishes quickly and lets me arrange my things as my tears dry. He doesn't open his mouth again until he speaks to the Cursor.

* * *

Red Rock Canyon is almost the color of blood. Vulpes and I step down from the rocks into the sand. I can hear his machete hilt clank against the metal of its harness as he walks ahead of me. He spoke in whispers to me on our journey to the canyon, telling me what to say and when to say it. 

"The Great Khans are expecting us," he tells me as we pass them. "As you can see, they live in drug-infested, dirty, bloody tents. Men and women crawling over one another half-naked. They are blinded by their lust for sex and alcohol." 

I stare at one of the women as she stares back at us, her eyes harsh, her purple hair waxed into spikes on top of her head, her breasts almost exposed to the entirety of the camp. Then I turn towards Vulpes. His words are words that could have been said about the Legion. He passes a look over me and I reach to hold his hand. My heart is conflicted, bordering on need and frustration and truth and sadness. He gently pushes my hand away. 

"Not in front of serpents' eyes." His breath brushes my ear as we come towards a long house. Here, the noon sun is blocked by the long stature of the wood cabin. Vulpes opens the door and waits for me to pass through. Inside, long tables are lined with Khan members, and in front of them, their plates of food. Sitting at a separate table, in front of the rest of them is Papa Khan. He sets down his fork when he sees the two of us enter. The hall hushes. 

Vulpes greets him, but does not bow to him, "An offering from Lord Caesar," and he extends a rifle from a cloth that was attached to his back. "I am the leader of the Frumentarii, Vulpes Inculta. And this," the entirety of the hall turns their heads to look at me, "is Frumentarius María, formerly a Courier. She is the one who destroyed the Brotherhood of Steel, quelled the emotions of the Bombers, and will help us defeat the NCR at the Battle of Hoover Dam." 

I step forward and greet the leader also. There is silence until he opens his mouth. "It is good to have two individuals of high-rank in my longhouse. Now, you're a woman in the Legion?" His dark eyes observe me. 

"Yes," I tell him. "I'm a woman and I have the responsibility of completing certain jobs for the Legion. My main goal is to bring the faction closer to success at Hoover Dam."

I dare a glance at Vulpes, but he isn't watching me, only the face of Papa Khan in front of us. 

"And you weren't dragged into working for them?" 

I look at one of the Great Khan women and her eager face, something hidden behind her hard features. I open my mouth, "No, it was my own choice." 

The woman speaks up. "Are you married to him? I've heard all women who join the Legion are married off and used to raise children."

"No, Vulpes Inculta is not my husband," I say quietly. "I have my freedoms."

Vulpes smiles a sick smile and asks to join Papa Khan at the table for lunch. The leader accepts and two more chairs are brought for us. I sit beside him and he briefly places his hand on my thigh, rubbing the bare skin under the tunic. 

"Tell me where your grievances lie," Vulpes says to the leader, turning his full attention towards him.


	38. The Apex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm extremely appreciative of all the kudos, hits, comments etc. on this story! The characters just decided to write themselves this chapter.

After negotiations, Vulpes seems pleased with himself. The Great Khans have invited us to stay the night and have allowed us to borrow separate rooms. They will help the Legion, unknowingly becoming slaves, and have agreed to assimilate into the ranks.  

I blow a breath of air out of my lungs as I enter my room in the longhouse alone. Vulpes's room is next to mine, and my body craves company, but I slip into the bed to sleep by myself this night.

My hand ventures toward my stomach in the dark. My period is overdue by four days. There is no second-guessing now. In nine months I will give birth to our child. In nine months, I should already be in Arizona with the rest of the Legion. In nine months my hair will be longer, and Vulpes will most likely have married me. 

I don't realize how tired I really am until my face begins to heavy. I blow out the candle on the small table beside the bed and turn to face the wall.

* * *

My morning sickness does not return, but I feel nauseous when I wake. Papa Khan and his people send us off with gifts of weapons and food. They are still wary of us, it seems, all of them watching as we pass through the canyon and back into the desert. 

"After this, what will the Legion do?" I ask Vulpes quietly, squinting my eyes against the sun.

"We will go to war," he says simply. Out of the canyon there are several more rocks and cliffs, and then, stretching to the highway, flat land. 

"Is it expected of me to fight?"

"No, you are carrying a child now, you will stay back at the Fort."

In a way, I'm grateful, but my mind persists with the feeling of indignation. I rub my thumb over the back of my hand. All I have for Vulpes is questions, but as I look at him and his eyes staring straight ahead, I resist the urge. Everything seems final now, everything is planned out with the goal of seeing Caesar's Legion grow and spread across the rest of the Wasteland. But I am not ready to move on, yet. I am not ready to be a mother. I chew on my lip and break the thick silence. 

"What will happen to me after the Legion takes over Hoover Dam, after my--our child is born?"

"That is your choice, María. Hopefully, you will become a symbol for our Legion."

I don't even know what he means by that, but I keep my mouth shut. The armor is clumsy and hot and heavy and with each step I take the shoulder pads rub against my sore breasts under the fabric.

After walking for several miles, we stop to rest. We eat the food the Great Khans gave us. 

Vulpes seats himself against a rock and I sit beside him. The sun sits in the middle of the sky, so I turn my head away from it, stare at Vulpes instead. He looks so lovely--cheeks and chin slightly sunburnt, fingertips folded over his lifted knee. He stares back at me from underneath his goggles.

"You look beautiful," I mutter. "Ethereal." 

He lifts the goggles from his eyes and hangs them around his neck. There's a clear swatch of white skin where the outline of the goggles was. "Did you miss me last night?" He asks me. 

"Yes." I take his hand, unusually warm. It's only us here, underneath the hot sun, surrounded by sand and cliffs. "Do you remember the beginning?" 

"When there was nothing? Romulus and Remus? The Great War? Which beginning?" 

"When I met you." I stop, stare at him. He's speaking quickly, smirking, as if he is trying to test me. 

"Yes. You were on your knees." He gives me a slight smile. 

"And you were standing above me." My whisper cannot be contained. 

"Did that make you think of Benny? Or did you think of taking _me_ in your mouth?" 

The strike makes me reach up and slap him across the face. I can see his skin flare as my hand burns from the quick contact. And then he turns to look at me, eyes narrowed, mouth in a straight line. I can see his jaw clench and his body straighten. I run. 

My boots grip the sand like it's water, legs buckling and bending and falling. I can hear his footsteps behind me, rapid, following. Excitement, fear, and slight amusement bubble inside my stomach. I didn't mean to hit him, but I'm sure he meant to say what he did. Anger makes my legs move faster, but not fast enough as I feel his hands wrap my waist, pull me to the sand along with him. I land on my back, hard earth and the shoulder pads pounding into my skin.

He leans over me, knees pushed into my sides, hands on either side of my head, holding me underneath him. "The first time I ever killed a person, I was in your place." I look up at him, my breath rapid, caught in my throat. I feel like the rabbit pinned down, ready for my heart to be ripped from my chest. I don't respond for a moment, unsure of what I just did, what he just said. I wet my lips.

"Do I have to kill you now?" I ask him.

"Yes," he mutters. I reach blindly for Maria, but he stops my hand. "With a rock, like an animal." 

I stare into his blue eyes, confused and breathless, but follow his gaze to a rock not too far from my face. I reach for it, hard and heavy in my hand. I look up at him again, the jagged weapon sitting in my palm like an offering. 

"Go on," he says, and I reach up to remove the coyote's skull from his head. I run my hand, the one not holding the rock, over his scalp. 

"I'm going to kill you," I tell him and the corners of his lips turn up. "I'm going to kill you." It's the only way I can tell him I love him as he palms my cheek, then unexpectedly, my breast, over the fabric of the tunic. 

I bring the rock to his head, slow. When it makes contact with his temple, I pull it back, and swing harder, just a little harder. The sun hurts, Vulpes's grip on my wrist hurts, my throat hurts. Vulpes makes me drop the rock from my fingers and leans down to whisper in my ear: "Brains and blood spilled from his head, and his face was frozen with this expression: wide eyes, mouth open. Oh my, María, it felt so good." He licks his lips, blows out a breath of air, "Like fucking you." 

My lips part and my eyes widen. I grip his biceps and his body leans into mine. With one hand, he pulls my body towards his, hikes up the edge of the tunic I'm wearing. And there we fuck like dogs in the sand, in the heat, in the dirt, stones pushing into my back like hands, Vulpes breathing warm into my ear all the things he wants to do to me, breathing Latin curses, holding me tight enough I think he might push me through the earth.

It's over quickly, the two of us pulling apart, bodies still on fire. He looks down at me, blue eyes searching my face. He reaches one hand behind my head and pulls me up towards his face to kiss me deeply. His mouth tastes like cooked meat and copper, like primitive things. 

He brushes my sweaty hair from my forehead, hoists me up, and watches as I reach down to gather the underwear which have puddled around my ankles. I feel revived as we continue across the desert, casting looks at Vulpes.

* * *

We reach the Fort after the sun's set, sweating and weak, and report to Caesar. 

"The Great Khans are ours, sir," Vulpes tells him. 

"Good, we'll reign them in after Hoover Dam." He grins. "And I expect the courier performed well?" He casts his eyes over me.

Vulpes smirks, the corner of his mouth pulling up, and I think my body could weaken right here. "Oh, yes, very well."

"Perfect," Caesar commends us and Vulpes offers the food and weapons the Khans gave to us. 

That night, the Legion has a feast, gunshots are fired into the air in celebration. Vulpes looks at me from across the long table in the mess tent.

"All of us are ready for war," he tells me, eyes full of excitement, like a child's.


End file.
